Far Far Away
by TheBlueFoxtrot A Samba
Summary: Anna has no interest in belonging to any man and can't stay with her cruel guardian. Escape is her only option. She also had no interest in picking up a shadow that insists he's her Prince on a black horse. She doesn't need saving. AU w/ powers
1. One

There once was rich man with a young daughter. He and his daughter lived happily together for some years until, as is usually the case, he took a wife, one with two daughters of her own. It came to pass that the man became very ill and died, leaving his immense fortune to his wife.

As the years went by, the step-mother revealed her true, uncaring nature without her husband to hold her back. She would often curse and yell at poor Anna, calling her a rogue for her unladylike behavior.

"Honestly, rolling around in the mud with the little servant boys! You are such a disgusting little thing. Ladies do _not _play with servant boys! I suppose it's not completely your fault since your mother died before she could teach you anything."

The woman would always act very put out and acting as if it was an inconvenience having to raise Anna along with her own daughters whom she lavished attention.

"Oh, my dear lovely girls! You two will both catch such fine, rich husbands."

"Do you think so, mother?"

"Of course, Jean! Such ravishing red hair and bright green eyes! When you come of age, the men will be fawning over you."

"What about me, mother?"

"You're a blond headed, blue eyed beauty. Emma, darling, it should go without saying. Although, you should really stop flirting with _every _boy with a pretty face. Someone might think you're without virtue."

Whenever Raven said something like that, Emma would merely smirk and Jean would arch a brow and Anna would roll her eyes.

"What about Anna?" Jean had asked once, thoroughly curious. She was never mean-spirited toward her step-sister. On the contrary, she rather liked her, and they got along well.

Emma sighed and placed two fingers on the bridge of her nose, already knowing what her mother was going to say. Her sister was so naïve at times it pained her. In this instance, it pained Anna even more so.

"Anna?" Raven scoffed. She stood from her seat and circled around the chair Anna was in. "Wildly curled hair that already shows white. Are you an old woman or a child? And there's nothing really remarkable about your face either. Dreadfully dull grey eyes. I don't really see much hope in you ever making a good match, but I'm sure you'd make some man a decent bed fellow."

In all the years, Anna endured this treatment for these were times when not much honest work was available for proper ladies. This was when grand balls were held where ladies would dress in silken finery and dazzling jewels and men wore dark suits and danced into the night. It was all an intricate, sparkling ruse to disguise it as no more than a place for eligible, and sometimes not, woman to be paraded in front of would-be husbands.

And despite what venom Raven spewed, Anna was a lady. She would always take whatever abuse with a calm, nonchalant air when she wanted nothing more than to rage and curse and yell just as good as she got. But always, _always, _she refrained from such improper behavior.

However, everyone has their limits…

It was on a day most like every other when Raven, Emma, and Jean took their tea in the sun room downstairs of the grand old mansion. Raven had taken to having Anna serve the tea, saying that acting the lady would help curb her 'rogue' ways. This day would prove to be unlike any other and the start of something very…different.

The sun streamed through the floor to ceiling window onto the four occupants all seated around a low wooden table. A woman well into her forties sat on the edge of ornately carved wooden chair as she sipped her tea at her leisure. A white gold ring twinkled on her ring finger and fell in stark contrast against the blue of her skin. Red hair was pulled back from her face and arranged in a bun at the back of her head. She glanced up and golden eyes to the other occupants with something like amusement.

To the side of her on the right were two younger woman in their early twenties. One held the handle of her tea cup tightly in her grasp as she stared at the first woman with her emerald green gaze. Bright red hair pooled onto tensed shoulders, and she glanced nervously at the woman sharing the couch with her.

Blue eyes shining with interest, the woman delicately nibbled at a cookie as she looked back and forth between the first woman and the last sitting opposite her mother. She absently flicked a strand of straight, blond hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

Silver eyes stared in astonishment at the blue skinned woman, not because of her appearance, but for her words. Pale white skin framed by white streaks of hair seemed to have gotten even paler. Her dark auburn hair stood out more than ever because of it. Her gloved hands folded in her lap tightened around each other until she was aware that she'd cut off the circulation and loosened them minutely.

"Excuse me?" Seventeen-year old Anna asked, sure she couldn't have heard that right.

"It's quite simple, girl," the smile Raven sent her was anything but reassuring. "The arrangements have been made. You will be going to Cain."

"Mother, isn't he rather…old?" Jean asked.

"That hardly matters," Raven waved her hand as if swatting at a pesky gnat. "He's offered a substantial amount of money for you, and I've accepted."

Anna swallowed past the lump in her throat before she opened her mouth and closed it. She tried once more to push words through her mouth.

"Y-you're…selling me?"

"Why not?" Raven shrugged airily. "After all I've done for you, I think it's the least you could do."

Anna looked away, not able to look at her step-mother without picturing ripping her hair out. The thought didn't bother her so much as her mind urging her body to get up and actually do it. Her heart was beating fast, and her breath came in quick spurts through her mouth. She heeded none of this as her mind whirled at this news.

"Your mother would be proud," she offered her another false smile, "I'm certain no one ever offered as much money for her as Cain did for you."

Raven's smile turned smug.

Jean's jaw dropped.

Emma's eyes went wide.

Anna sent Raven a deadly glare. Her hand shot out at its own violation and grabbed the pot of fresh, _hot _tea and hurled it at her step-mother. Emma recovered first just in time to stop the pot from hitting her mother and directed to another table, away from her enraged, step-sister.

"How dare you!" Anna abruptly stood from her chair so quickly it tipped over. Emma moved it aside, afraid she'd trip over it and ruin what promised to be a good tirade. "If ya say one more word about my mother, I swear it will be the last thing you ever say! All these years, you've been nothin' but an evil, heartless, cruel witch! I have done everythin' ya asked of me, never disobeyed ya or went against when ya were dead wrong. I can't remember one time when ya were decent to me without puttin' on a front for somebody! Now you're just gonna sell me to be some man's whore?"

"In a word, yes," her words were sharp and clipped. It surprised her that Anna had acted out in such a way, but she thought it funny that she'd gotten to snap.

"In the past, I have tried to mold you into a lady, but the lessons never quite took. However, Cain has assured me that won't be a problem as he likes his women to have…spirit, and he can handle any unruly behavior from you."

Raven calmly raised her tea to her mouth as Anna fairly vibrated with rage. She lowered it minutely and peered into the cup as if inspecting it.

"After this little display, I think it best if you removed yourself until you've calmed down."

Eyes blazing, Anna left, sure that if she stayed a moment longer she'd attack the woman. The thought didn't stop but knowing that she might not be able to stop did.

"Mother, don't you think that's a bit harsh?" Anna paused as she heard Emma speak.

Was she standing up for her?

"After all, isn't it rather cruel to sell her as a mistress when the man can't even touch her?"

Okay...maybe she wasn't.

Raven's cruel laugher filled the air.

"There are ways around that, my dear."

She wanted to yell. She wanted to scream. She wanted to rip down every single, hideous painting and sculpture that woman so prided and hurl it at her head. She did not. She maintained her calm, however false it was. All of her training on how to be a lady was overriding her childish impulses. Instead, as she pulled the door shut behind her, she walked quickly to her room. She needed to prepare for a rebellion and throwing a fit was not going to help her cause.

It wasn't a loud, screeching rebellion with flaming anger shown for the world that would soon burn itself out only dim to ashes. No. It was a smoldering, righteous indignant thing fueled by every injustice she'd been dealt by her cruel step-mother. It stayed with her, quiet throughout the rest of the day. She feigned submission and being resigned to her fate to the point that Emma sent her the most pitying glance at supper.

She almost lost it right then.

But that night, it was with quiet dignity that Anna went about her room, packing necessary items into a saddle bag and one other to sling around her shoulders, slipped her cloak on over clothes she'd traded with one of the stable boys. A pair of pants were much more sensible than any one of her gowns, even the most common ones.

She raised a hand to her throat, making sure that her father's pendant was in place. It was simply a large emerald with a silver chain, but it was one of the things Raven had never been able to take from her. She tucked it inside her shirt, not about to leave it behind with the other jewels. Still, she'd thought it prudent to take a few. She might need to sell them.

Quietly, she made her way down stairs as fast as she dared, careful to skip that one creaking board. Down the hall, left at this corner and through the back door, she glanced once over her shoulder up at the house, hoping Raven wouldn't look out for whatever reason and see her under the full moon, before she turned and walked to the stable. The tall hostler that worked there since as far as she could remember led her horse, a brown gelding, out through the doors, saddled and waiting for her.

Isaac was old, not more than sixty, not younger than fifty, but he looked close to seventy. He smoked a pipe when he pleased, drank more than he should, and was the one that taught Anna how to play cards, among other things. He was a hard but caring man and Anna was sure that she'd miss him more than her sisters.

"I'm thinkin' there are holes in your plan, my little lady," he told her gruffly, running the back of his hand along his jaw.

"Trust me, I know. I'll be eighteen in a few weeks but by that time, Cain will already have…It's not like I have options, Isaac," she shrugged.

She slung the saddle bag over the back of the horse, preparing to strap it on, but he gently pushed her aside and secured it himself.

"Your father is turning over in his grave, let there be no doubt."

"I'm not all that thrilled with it myself."

Anna absently rubbed at the white blaze on the horse's head. It nudged at her hand and almost brushed her face, but she moved before he did. It wouldn't do for her to knock her mount out before she even escaped. Isaac stepped back with a weary sigh. He crossed his muscular arms over his solid chest and considered the girl turned lady in front of him. She strongly resisted the urge to fidget under his stern gaze. Then he grinned and opened his arms out to her. She stepped into his embrace and held on tight.

"I'm gonna miss you. A lot. A whole lot," she told him.

"If she were a man, I'd have beaten the crap out of her years ago," he said, trying to lighten the very serious atmosphere.

"If she were a man, I don't think Daddy would have married her, er, it then," she muttered into his shirt, imperceptibly wiping off tears on his shirt.

He pulled away from her to look her in the eyes.

"Please try and stay out of trouble."

"Don't I always?"

"No. And somehow, you manage to drag a grown man who should know better with you every time."

She gave him one more squeeze before pulling completely out of his embrace. He helped her onto the horse even though she didn't need his help and both knew it. The danced to the side, eager to be going, but Anna held him in place with a solid grip on the reins.

"I guess…I'll see ya when I see ya," she said uncertainly.

He raised a hand to pat her affectionately on the knee.

"You'll be fine. Now get outta here before I come to my senses."

Anna offered him a final smile and wave before she set off at a trot, the long legs of her horse eating up the ground. Isaac watched her ride off into the night until she was out of sight. Then he turned on his heel and hummed a tune as he walked back to his little shack near the stable, wondering how long it'd take that woman to realize Anna was gone and how much longer than that it'd take her to realize she was missing a horse. Considering the little ruse he'd cooked up with the maids inside the house and the fact that the woman never stepped foot inside his stable, at the most, she'd have a month's head start. He wished her luck once more, went inside to lay down on his bed, and did not sleep that night.

Whether he rested or not, it would, unfortunately, not help Anna in the slightest with what was to come.

* * *

A/N: Let it be known: there is a difference between a woman and a lady. A woman is simply a female. A lady has class, is respectable, handles herself accordingly at all times. She holds herself in check.

"How dare you!" is such a cliché thing to say but I really like it. A lot. I wish there were more opportunities to say it in real life.

I don't know why I'm posting this like I have the time to be doing this along with my other stories and school. Obviously, I have a problem. Oh, and I can say right now, this will so exceed the twelve chapter mark I said I was gonna do.

For anyone who doesn't know, a hostler is basically someone who minds the horses, stable master I suppose.

Disclaimer: how much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck would chuck wood? To which I say, what for Pete's sake, is a wood chuck?


	2. Two

That night, Anna pushed her horse faster than what was safe. The horse knew the path he was on and as if sensing his mistress's urgency galloped fervently forward. She was uncertain and a little scared about leaving her home but excited and eager to be gone from that woman's grasp. Still, she was sure that whatever future lay ahead of her was far better than what her life would have been had she stayed.

In thinking so, the young lady was right. However, it would be something she never would have dreamed.

Unknown to her, Raven had suspected that she might try something like this and warned Cain of it. He, in turn, had hired guards for the roads. It was at a crossroads that they found and captured Anna. The gold in their pockets and the promise of more convinced them to refuse her desperate pleas. That's not to say she didn't put up a physical fight. On the contrary, she kicked one of them in the face when they tried to drag her from her horse. The pleading didn't come until after they'd pulled her off of the horse and the traitorous creature had run off.

Now, the three men sat around a campfire in a clearing in the forest, quite a ways from the common roads. They'd come to the conclusion that they'd take her to Cain at first light and visit the taverns soon after. Anna had been placed a ways off from them at the base of a tree. Her arms were tied behind her back, her legs together at the ankles, and a gag was over her mouth. She was sure they gagged her just to be mean-spirited.

Really, just because she'd questioned their manhood and the legitimacy of their birth was no reason to shove a rope in her mouth. As it was, she had to settle with glaring holes in their heads and trying to will them to let her go. Momentarily, it annoyed her more than a little that _both _of her sisters were telepaths.

As they settled down to sleep, Anna went through her plans of escape. That is, she had none. It wasn't that she was stupid, it was that she'd received quite a knock on the head earlier from the really ugly one. On top of that, he'd stolen her father's pendant and was wearing it around his, fat ugly neck. May the chain constrict around his swollen neck and he choke on it.

And then, it's not like she had a lot of options. She couldn't untie herself as she could barely feel the ropes around her wrists due to her gloves and she'd lost circulation some time ago. She had a knife but it was in her bag next to the moderately ugly man and again, no feeling in her hands. Even if she miraculously got her hands on it, it'd be her luck to stab herself or slit her wrists. Neither was appealing. But again, it wasn't even possible.

Despair and hopelessness threatened to take over. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she tried to shake it off. It didn't work and a groan of frustration erupted from her throat.

"Shut up! Tryin' to sleep here," the least ugly but still very ugly man farthest from her said.

Anna attempted to tell him to go dig a hole, crawl in it, and die, but the gag did not let her articulate it well. Still, her general meaning of distaste showed, and he made a rude gesture at her. She continued to glare death at him until he rolled over.

At this point, it was either cry or get mad so she gave an unladylike snort before she jerked her gaze away and looked into the forest. There was a small flash of red for a moment then it was gone. Frowning, she looked intently trying to see what she was certain she saw. Was it an animal?

A hand landed on her opposite shoulder and she almost screamed. Jerking her head around, she found out what had caused that flash of red. A man was kneeling beside. Dark hair hung down around his tanned face. A finger was raised to his lips for silence. His eyes were a glowing red on black in a way that some would think him a demon. She thought him her rescuing angel.

She could only stare in shock as he moved behind her. A moment later, she felt the ropes around her wrists loosen. Her hands tingled as the blood flowed back into them, and she fumbled to untie her gag. With a touch of his finger, the ropes sparked a bit and fell away from her ankles. She was free except for the troublesome gag. It would seem her hands had gone numb. Her rescuer made short work of that as well when he saw that she was having trouble.

He reached down and took her hand to lead her away but she pulled back. He turned a confused face to her.

'_What are you doing_?' it clearly said.

She pointed to the now sleeping figures of her captors.

'_What about them_?' he shot her another look.

She made a gesture with her hands forming a loop around her neck. He arched a brow. Anna struggled to think up a way to explain when she caught sight of the chain around his neck. She reached out and touched it and pointed at the horrid man who stolen her father's pendant. The glinting metal could just barely be seen in the folds of at fat was his next. Her champion shot her an incredulous look.

'_Are you crazy?'_ he might as well have yelled it, it was so clear.

She gave him the most pathetic, helpless look she could manage. Considering everything she's been through the last few hours, it wasn't hard. He heaved a long but silent sigh that wouldn't have been heard over the snoring anyway before he signaled for her to stay where she was before he crept forward.

Anna held her breath as he inched towards the men, edging around them until he reached the ugly man. The chain had no clasp so he actually had to lift it from off of his neck. When he realized this, he gave Anna a very aggravated look. She smiled encouragingly at him and made a rolling motion with her hand.

'_Go on!'_

With a final roll of his eyes, he set to work removing the necklace without disturbing the sleeping man. However, Anna's luck decided to factor in. Very suddenly, the big man jerked awake. And what is the first thing he sees but a pair of seemingly demonic eyes glaring at him. Of course, he cries out, successfully waking the other two men.

The ensuing fight was rather short-lived. Her champion pulled a bo staff from out of the long coat he wore and took out two of them in short order. However, the man who stole her pendant was not easily beaten. Just as Anna thought she might have to intervene, he pulled something out of his coat that began to glow a pink color. He backed up some distance and threw it near her kidnapper's feet. Whatever it was exploded, slamming him against a tree and effectively knocking him out.

Anna stared with undisguised awe as her hero swaggered victoriously over to him, plucked the chain off of his neck, picked up her bag as it was on the way, and sauntered over to her. With a smirk on his face, he placed the necklace over her head, bowed lowly to her, took her hand, and kissed it.

"Remy Lebeau, at your service, petite."

Anna continued to stare until she noticed her mouth was hanging open and closed it so fast her teeth clattered.

"I…that was…thank you," she said. If her voice was a little breathless, it had nothing to do with how handsome this man was.

"It was a pleasure assisting such a belle dame," he smiled genuinely this time. "Who's name would be…?"

"I'm…Rogue," she said with a smile. "My name is Rogue."

It fit her. It was perhaps the only thing her step-mother had ever been right about.

"Well, Rogue, I think it best if we leave before these boys decide it's time for round two, hein?"

He didn't wait for an answer as he led her away. Rogue was still in too much shocked awe as she allowed herself to be led away. In a moment or two, she'd recover her wits but at the moment, she was trusting him to keep her safe. He led her through, seemingly not following any path but a set destination he had in mind. At the end of their short journey, a big black stallion waited for them.

"Now," he said turning to her. "I imagine you have some place to be. I would be more than willin' to escort you, if you wish."

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why would you help me?"

"Well, it seems like the whole rescue-the-damsel-in-distress thing ain't done right if you just leave the damsel in the middle of the woods alone. The big bad wolf might come for ya next," his tone was teasing.

Rogue pulled her hand out of his grasp.

"It's my experience that people don't just help other people from the goodness of their hearts."

Remy tilted his head, giving her a questioning look.

"A bit young to be so cynical, doncha think?"

"I'd appreciate if you'd help me get out of the forest but after that, I think it'd be best if we part ways. We should move before those men wake up."

"Why did they –" he broke off his question. Something in her expression must have swayed him to keep it to himself. "Fine. Let's go then."

They mounted the big black with Rogue in front of Remy and rode off. At first, she kept her back straight so as not to touch him. Then her weariness overcame her stubbornness and she leaned on him slightly. The rocking of the horse mixed with her own exhaustion caused a lulling affect on her.

"Ya know," he drawled out after some moments of silence, "in some countries, when ya save someone's life, they yours for life."

"Good thing this ain't other countries then," she murmured.

He chuckled at that and she felt it vibrate through his chest.

"So when we get outta here, where ya headed?" he asked.

"Hm?" she replied sleepily. "Oh. I'm going to New Orleans."

"Really?"

"Mhmm. My uncle lives there. I remember him from when I was little," she paused to yawn. "He was nice. He'd never sell me," she muttered, now more sleep than awake.

"That's goo – wait, what? Sell you? Rogue?"

Her non-responsiveness and even breathing told him that she was past the point of hearing him. As Remy looked down at the woman in his arms, he decided right then that he was just going to have to escort her to New Orleans himself. It was rather convenient that the city was his home town.

* * *

a/n: Houston, we have Remy. Repeat, we have Remy. I'm not sure I like how I did it though.

I was too lazy to proofread this so if you spot some mistakes or if I said something that just doesn't make any sense, please bring it to my attention.

Just a question. Does anyone else write a sentence, spoken words, descriptions, whatever, that's somewhere out in the middle of the story then write things to build up to that point? Or is that just me?

Bio test? Psh! Psychology? Please! English outline? Ha!

'Hi, my made up name is Blue and I'm addicted to fanfiction. And Kazoo's not helpin' me at all.

Who's Kazoo?

My blue, dancing fox.

0.o'


	3. Three

Kazoo: All right, let's get this out of the way. **Gurlie**, I am delighted that you are enchanted with this story. **Kami**, thank you. **AmuletSpade**…You're very odd but I like you. Your reviews are extremely amusing. **Lovelydoc**, your wish is my command. **Anana553**, well here it is.

There, I thanked the anonymouses. Can we move on now?

_Me: Anonymouses isn't a word, is it? You have to ask that other thing first._

Kazoo: Lazy…would anyone like to beta this mess? There. _Now_ can we?

_Me: Here we go!_

* * *

"Rogue? Rogue, wake up," the voice was male, vaguely familiar, and had a tinge of urgency to it. She didn't care. She was sleeping. It needed to _stop._

"Leave me 'lone, Isaac," she muttered and burrowed into her pillow more.

Or would have, except her pillow was harder than normal. It also felt like leather…and breathed. Rogue shot upright and looked frantically around.

"Calm down there, girly."

She turned to the voice. Somehow, it didn't surprise her that it was an ugly goon…again. He was different than ones before. Instead of being big, fat, and ugly, this one was skinny, tall, and ugly. The horse beneath them pranced nervously. The group of at least half a dozen men weren't making her at all comfortable either. Especially the odd one wearing a suit. Slicked back hair and white gloves on his hands, he looked like he'd just stepped out from a party.

"You alright, Rogue?" Remy whispered to her.

"What is going on?"

"We have to get off the horse."

"Indeed ya do, ma'am," the suit-wearer told her.

She glanced behind her at Remy then shifted to dismount. One of the men reached for her but she kicked his hand away.

"Do _not_ touch me!" she nearly growled.

"You simply must tell me where you found such a spirited woman," his eyes lingered over her face and went lower. If he'd been close enough, she would have kicked him too.

"Beautiful too."

She scoffed as Remy dismounted first. When she dismounted, he offered his hand. For whatever reason, she barely hesitated and accepted it. Almost as soon as her feet hit the ground, the suit snapped his fingers, and three men came forward. Two pulled Remy away from her, and she squashed the bit of panic that threatened to erupt when the other grabbed her arm.

"Search their bags."

She did not like this. It was bad enough that she had to wake up in the first place. But once again, in less than twenty four hours, she was surrounded by leering goons. Although, with the way the suit was pointedly talking to Remy, she had a suspicion they weren't after her at least. For the first time, Rogue wondered just who she was traveling with.

"Found 'em," one goon declared.

Rogue barely suppressed a groan when the idiot pulled out _her_ bracelet, a ring, two necklaces, and a handful of other pieces. She didn't miss the look Remy sent her way. She was certain she wasn't seeing him clearly as it looked like he was smirking.

It was as if his look said, _You just keep getting more and more interesting._

She sent one back, _You realize this is serious?_

He shrugged.

She didn't fully understand what was going on. She didn't much appreciate it either, especially these jerks going through her bags. Hero boy didn't really look like he had much of a plan. So she'd have to do it.

"Now, hold on, mister," she called out. "Me and your boy here ain't no tie."

Remy sent her a dark, hurt look. She tilted her head, angling her face away from him and trying to look more appealing.

"Your point being?"

"My point is I don't really care what happens to him. I'm sure that you and I can come to some sort of deal," Rogue said with a smile, sliding her gaze across the man before her.

He smiled haughtily, casting a glance at the bewildered Remy. He snapped his fingers again, and the man holding Rogue released her.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked.

"That depends," she drawled out.

She walked towards him, deliberately swaying her hips and showing the curves the oversized pants couldn't hide. As she moved, she fingered off her right glove. None of the men were looking at her hands anyway.

"And what would that be?"

She tried very hard not to cringe as his hand trailed across her shoulder. She forced herself to smile wider. She had him anyway.

"Just how much of me you can handle, sugar."

Her bare hand cupped his jaw. His body went stiff and his eyes rolled into the back. After a moment, she removed her hand and let him drop. This time, she allowed herself to shudder. Before the goons had a chance to recover, Rogue knelt down and slipped her knife out of her boot. She held it securely against the unconscious man's throat and spoke to the assembly at large. She heard Remy curse under his breath.

"Let him go. If I kill Mr. Tanner here, y'all don't get paid. He promised to pay y'all for your time, not your service. You don't owe him anything else."

"What did you do to him?" one asked.

She didn't bother to answer.

The men glanced around at each other before the two holding Remy let him go. Remy made a show of straightening his coat.

"Oh, would you get on with it?" she asked with exasperation _clear _in her voice.

He gave her a cheeky smile and quickly retrieved another horse, bringing it close by her.

"Now, if you try anything before we're well out of sight, he'll never wake up. If he doesn't wake up, none of you get paid. Understand?"

There was a general grunt of positives from the men.

"Big Boy, get those jewels out of your pockets and put them back."

Grumbling, he did so. Remy whistled through his teeth, and his horse pranced over to him. She sent all of them a measured glance before tucking the knife back in her boot. Remy held her horse, a spirited bay gelding, and she quickly mounted. Nearly before she was fully settled, Remy was on his own horse.

"Y'all have a lovely day," Remy said with a smirk, kicking his horse off after Rogue's.

They sped through the forest at a gallop. The long stride of their horses eating up the ground the leaving the clearing far behind. After two hours, they slowed the horses down to a trot.

Rogue held the reins in one hand and pressed a hand to her pounding heart. The adrenaline from the latest encounter still hadn't quite left. Remy rode his horse near to hers, close enough that their legs could almost just brush against the other.

"One of us," Remy started, "is bad luck. And I ain't quite sure which one."

"I'll blame you for this one. For shame, taking Mr. Tanner's fine gold and silver," she teased.

"How'd you know?"

She almost laughed at his startled look. Well, it wasn't gonna get any better. She held her still ungloved hand away from her chest, palm up. Her hand was pale and soft, the nails softly shaped. Two silvers rings were on her thumb and index finger. He glanced at her hand then to her, an eyebrow quirked in question.

"If I touched you skin to skin, I'd take your life force, memories, thoughts – basically you in miniature in my head. I guess because it's some kind of shock to the body, you'd pass out for a while."

She looped the reins loosely around her wrist and pulled her glove from her pocket. Remy watched while she put it on, not even looking while she did. The leather gloves looked worn and well-used.

"Ya can't control it."

It wasn't a question; she didn't respond. They continued on for a time in an uncomfortable silence.

This was crazy. Yesterday, she was the daughter of a dead merchant living in luxury under a woman who could not stand her. The feeling was mutual. Yesterday, she'd run away from home because said woman was selling her to be some man's play thing. In barely twenty four hours, her horse had run out on her, she'd been ambushed and leered at, tied up, rescued, ambushed and leered at _again,_ rescued herself and the former rescuer. Out of the two of them, she probably was the one with the bad luck. After all, it's not like her life had been roses and daffodils before Remy had shown up.

But it would get better. It had to. Once she made it to New Orleans and found her uncle, he'd help her. If he didn't, she'd take care of herself. Simple as that.

_What would Remy do?_

Rogue started at that. What did she care what Remy did? His business was his own, like hers.

She glanced at him and caught him looking at her.

"Now what?" she asked sharply, still annoyed from the subject of the earlier conversation.

"Were you bluffing with that?"

He made a slashing motion across his throat.

"Killin' him?"

He nodded. She didn't really answer. Just made a vague gesture and mumbled something. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"You like me."

"I – that's – I don't…shut up!" Rogue sputtered.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," he said with a smirk.

"Methinks the lady's gonna punch you in the face," she threatened.

"Ha! What happened to that charming, enticing dame from before? I almost thought you'd sold me out for a minute there."

She shook her head, blushing at the memory of her behavior and the whispers of Tanner's thoughts.

"You have no idea how many times I've seen Emma do that."

"Who's Emma?"

"She is my father's wife's oldest daughter."

"Your step-sister."

"_No_," she said firmly. "My father's wife's oldest daughter."

"All right, I get it! No relation. So touchy," he rolled his eyes.

"If ya knew her – no, if _you _knew her, I bet she'd have you wrapped around her little finger."

"Oh, really?"

"Really. She does things, and she knows good and well what she's doing. Jean's like that too, but a bit less…flaunting with it, I guess."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You expect me to believe that you didn't leave behind a string of broken hearts when you left?"

She laughed, shaking her head.

"You're kiddin' me, right?"

She sent him a look that said that she clearly thought he was the one joking.

"Are the men _blind_ where you come from? You're gorgeous!"

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious! Those big, silver eyes, those luscious lips, that wild, curly hair! Simply the face of _d'un ange_! And all that 'Ya just can't handle me, sugar'," he did a bad imitation of her voice, pitching his own higher and breathier.

His antics left Rogue blushing and laughing, despite how she tried not to.

"Rogue," he called to her.

"Hm?"

Still smiling, she looked at him when he didn't say anything further. He was staring at her again, but with this look on his face that Rogue didn't know what to make of.

"You are really _are _beautiful," he told her, completely sincere.

If she hadn't been flushed before, she definitely was now.

"Looks like rain," he commented, glancing away from her up to the sky.

She breathed a sigh of relief when he looked away from her. For whatever reason, she felt…_oddly _when he did. Rogue wasn't sure if it was because of his eyes or his smile or just him. She was just glad that he didn't…wait. Didn't he say that he had empathy?

"Bloody Mary," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that,_ chere_?"

"Uh, let's get movin' then," she said before kicking her horse into a gallop.

Rogue kept the lead for only a few moments before Remy blew past her.

"Uh-uh, no. You're not gonna let that pretty boy Cajun beat ya, are you?" she urged her horse.

The big bay snorted through its nose as if the very idea was ludicrous. Soon, they were racing along the road neck and neck. Behind them, the dark clouds gathered, rumbling ominously.

If they kept this pace, they might make it to the next town before getting caught in the coming downpour.

* * *

A/N: We need to get out of this damn forest already. Just thugs everywhere. I swear, it's worse than Mobile! (hahaha, actually no. No one's dead yet! Word of advice: If you ever find yourself in Prichard, Alabama, DO NOT STOP there. No matter how much of a potty emergency it is.)

This has been rewritten 4 times. (I can't even recall how many times I've gone over ch. 30 for SGIH) I don't know if I actually like how it came out or I'm just doing this to get it out already!

Ludicrous ludicrous ludicrous ludicrous…I like that word.


	4. Four

By the time Rogue and Remy arrived in town, the grey clouds were drizzling almost lazily. The sun was hid behind the voluminous clouds, its light still illuminating the covered town. After they situated their horses in a stable for the night, the sky had broken open, spilling sheets of water. Following a short…debate on the merits of staying in the stables or going to the hotel up the road, Remy proceeded to push Rogue out and tell her to run for it.

The Mahoney Place was merely a standard of hotels in that day. Nothing more than someone's own home, usually large and well-kept, turned into a business.

A young man with light brown hair stood behind a long desk, dressed in an impeccable suit. He leaned over a ledger, his pen lightly scratching across the page. Rich rugs were placed on oak inlaid floors. A fire crackled in the fire place along the opposite wall. The quiet inside was broken by the tinkling of china and the dinner conversation of several people in the dining hall to the left of the elegant staircase.

Outside, the rain thundered on the roof of the house, muffling everything. But if one had been in the sitting room at the foremost front of the hotel, one would have clearly heard the sound of leather hitting flesh and a rather undignified yelp.

"No good Swamp Rat," Rogue muttered as she stalked past him and up the porch.

Water dripped from her hair into her eyes, and she slicked her bangs out of her face. He didn't reply, only pouted at her, still rubbing the sore spot on his face. He'd have to watch her from now on. That femme hit _hard._ A profile of her figure was highlighted by the light pouring the window behind her. He tilted his head as he considered that oh, yes; he'd have to watch her _very _closely indeed. She pointedly ignored him as she made an attempt to wring excess water from her clothes before going in.

She happed to glance at Remy while she was removing her cloak, that she swore gained _at least _ten pounds, to see him still sulking.

"Oh, knock it off!" she rolled her eyes.

"You're a mean lady," he accused.

"Me? You are the one who pushed me in the rain in the first place! You're lucky all I did was slap ya!" she cried.

Now fully irritated with Remy's attitude and her never-ending supply of liquid, Rogue threw up her hands in frustration. Remy watched her, just a_ bit_ (very)…taken with her temper and the way her fury brought a bit of color to her cheeks, and half-way expected her to kick the door in. He was surprised when Rogue gave a pointed look to him and the door.

_Well?_

His brows shot up near to his hairline as he stared at her.

_Are you serious right now?_

She, in turn, arched _a _brow, pursed her lips, and crossed her arms.

_What do you think?_

Remy held his hand up in surrender, much as one can with saddlebags over his shoulder and another in hand. He moved to the door and opened, bowing shortly and gesturing her in grandly. Rogue raised her head, almost subconsciously, and glided inside much the same way a grand dame enters a ballroom. Equally as soaked as she, Remy strolled in after her, looking for all the world as if he owned it. Despite his soggy appearance, he was pulling off the impression very well.

The man behind the desk looked up to behold the oddest sight he'd seen – he quickly checked the grandfather clock in front of him – in about two hours. The red-eyed man walked up a few steps behind her and motioned with his head for him to address the woman before dropping three leather bags on the floor. He pushed the ledger aside, filled with more drawings than actual work, and smiled his most charming smile at the drenched woman that came to stand in front of him.

"Welcome to the Mahoney Place, miss. What can I do for you two?"

She smiled, a bit sharp compared to his, and said,

"Is this not a hotel," she glanced at his name plate, "Mr. Drake?"

"Indeed it is, miss. The finest in town."

"Then would it not stand to reason that you could _assume _that everyone who comes through the door wants a room?"

Oh, he could see already…she was going to be difficult.

"Of course," he replied, his own smile tight.

Normally, she'd behave herself better. However, she was extremely irritated. She was cold, wet, and hungry. She wanted to go back to sleep, she wanted to keep moving, and take a bath. Not in that order. She wanted Remy to call her beautiful again and - …that is, she, erm…All right, yes, that is actually what she wanted.

Mr. Bobby Drake, as his plate read, checked over a different ledger than the one he had before. He picked up a pen and lightly trailed it down the list, humming under his breath.

"I'm sorry, but we're out of rooms," he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic.

"What," Rogue said flatly.

Bobby shrugged helplessly and almost smug.

"Now hold on a moment," Remy spoke up for the first time, using a distinctly Northern accent. "What about that seventh slot there from the top?" he asked.

"That one is reserved, sir," he replied, not even looking down.

"I see. But they're not due for another two days. Certainly, you could let me and my wife," he put his arm around her waist at that. She momentarily stopped glaring at Bobby long enough to glare at him, "stay there until the storm passes. No doubt we'll be gone by morning," he assured.

"I don't think that –", Remy flicked his wrist again, and three gold coins appeared between each finger. Bobby didn't even blink. – "That will be a problem at all!" he finished, now smiling brightly.

Faster than the coins appeared, they disappeared in Bobby's pocket as he twirled around to pluck a key from the little cubby they were kept in. Remy shot Rogue a smirk, as if to say,

'_In your face!'_

She rolled her grey eyes, clearly indicating she wasn't impressed…much.

Bobby turned the ledger for Remy to sign around for him and set the pen and an inkwell towards him, just barely restraining himself from rubbing his hands together. Remy plucked up the quill pen and quickly scrawled a name across the sheet. A name that Rogue noticed was not his.

"Well, Mr. –" Bobby glanced down at the name, "Lenoir, here is your key, and if you'll follow me, I'll show you to your room."

"That won't be necessary," he said as Rogue took the key. "I've been here before. If you would, have dinner sent to our room."

"Of course. Anything you would especially like?"

"Just tell the head chef Lenoir is here. He'll know."

"Yes, sir. Have a good evening."

"The same to you."

And with that, the couple strolled down the hall on the right of the stairs. Before they were halfway up, Bobby had already spent the money in his mind. His girlfriend, Jubilee, had been 'hinting' lately about a certain friend of theirs who'd gotten engaged. He was grinning like an idiot just thinking about it.

First things first though: get Mr. 'Lenoir's –if that was his real name then his was Ichabod Eisenhower – and his _lovely _wife dinner. Then he'd have Duncan clean up that little stream of water.

* * *

Remy unlocked the door, opening it for her and flicking on the light switch. The room was large, located in the center of the house. It had eleven foot ceilings and a mahogany inlay floor with a deep burgundy and gold rug. The privacy was enhanced by thick burgundy drapes which framed the queen size mahogany sleigh bed providing a sense of tranquility and luxury. An inviting fireplace with an ivory colored mantle and tiles was on one side. Next to it stood a small, wooden vanity desk with a mirror and gas lamp. An oak armoire and dresser were on the opposite wall of the fireplace. A door next to that led into a bathroom. Rogue only saw one problem.

She turned to Remy as he shut the door and dropped the bags near it.

"There's only one bed."

"You're welcome, Rogue. I was only glad to provide you with a dry place to stay, a warm bed, nice bath, and hot food," he said with a grin, making his way over to the cold fireplace.

A card appeared in his hand and started glowing pink. He slipped it in between the logs. With a sharp pop, the beginnings of fire came to life.

"Well, yeah, thanks," she conceded, "but where are you going to sleep?"

Remy paused in tending to the fire to give her a blank look.

"In the bed," he replied.

"But I'm –"

Oh, don't worry, chere," he smirked at her, "I don't mind a' 'tal if you sleep there too, but I ain't about to take the floor. My chivalry just doesn't extend that far."

"I thought you were a gentleman."

"_I _never said that; _you _assumed."

Remy stood and shrugged out of his coat, dragging a chair near the fire with his foot and draping it across it. He wore a simple black shirt under it, the already tight-fitting material clinging more due to the water.

"Remy, I _can't _sleep in the bed with you. I could accidentally touch you while we're asleep."

"Tragic," he commented, yawning lihgtly.

"Uh, yeah, that's the point! I could kill you, you know?"

He rolled his eyes, and one hand straying to his shirt's hem.

"Are you gonna bathe first or me?" he asked, already done with the conversation in his mind.

He was not sleeping on the floor, and he was going to let Rogue sleep there. All he had to do was simply keep covered, stay on his side, and everyone'd be happy. He simply just did not feel like interrupting Rogue at the moment since she still seemed a bit irritated, and he didn't want to get slapped again.

"If I kept contact long enough," she continued, and Remy shrugged," you wouldn't wake up. All it'd take is-"

Rogue stopped mid-sentence and blatantly stared. She honestly could not stop herself. As she'd been talking, Remy had casually taken off his shirt and tossed it aside. He pulled a leather strip out his hair that had been keeping the reddish-brown hair, chin length hair in a low pony tail. Water ran down from the strands and dropped onto his broad shoulders. It flowed off his shoulders, down his muscled chest to his abs. She could actually _count _them.

Remy glanced over at her openly gaping at him, a light blush spreading from her neck to her cheeks and a sort of glazed look in her eyes. He was more than a little amused and endeared by her reaction. He was aware that he was good-looking. Numerous women confirmed that, even when he was a boy. But that Rogue thought so was different because…well, _Rogue _was different. There was something special about her. He knew that from the moment he met her.

The girl tilted her head, as if to get a better look, when he realized what it was. She was innocent. Her powers discouraged men from trying to have a relationship with her. Because of that, she didn't play games. Not once, had she tried to flirt with him or entice him – not that he'd have minded. Rogue didn't play games with him, and he found that…attractive in a way.

Still, they couldn't very well spend the whole night like this.

"Rogue," he called.

She didn't blink.

"Roguey," he brought his hand up and snapped his fingers in her face.

She blinked, but nothing else. Remy crossed one arm across his belly and cupped his chin with his other hand, smothering a laugh. Rogue frowned and opened her mouth to object until she met his gaze, ruby eyes sparkling with mirth.

She could feel the heat burning her cheeks at this point and could not remember a time in her life when she'd blushed so much because of anyone.

"Um… I was – you'd…ngh," she groaned, spun on her heel, and retreated to the bathroom.

"Rogue, Rogue, Rogue," he shook his head, chuckling at the girl's expense.

She was just too cute when she was flustered.

* * *

A/N: This was going to be over 4000 words and one chapter, but I decided to half it.

Mary Marhoney's (The Mahoney Place) is actually a restaurant in Biloxi, Mississippi down near the beach. It used to be a slave house or something like that. Expensive food. The hotel is a bed and breakfast in New Orleans, and I had to go online to check for that.

Real fairy tales are far too…what's the word I'm looking for? Dry, maybe? Outlined. The same. But most stories are. Every plot's been done, really.

I started back school on the 6th. My teachers are sick, sadistic people. Because of them, I may very well be absent for about 5 months. Not overly likely though.


	5. Five

The bathroom was decorated in soothing colors and soft fabrics. A porcelain pedestal sink with a basin of water on the side of it and a claw foot tub were on one side, the toilet on the other.

Rogue had pulled some towels of off a shelf and placed them on a stool next to the tub. She'd found some sweet smelling bath oils and filled the tub near to the brim, grateful for the miracle of indoor plumbing. As steam filled the room, and Rogue relaxed in the hot water, she fully intended to stay in until it was impossible to tell whether she was red-faced because of the heat or embarrassment.

She sank further into the water until her nose was just above the surface. It was utterly ridiculous. Never, ever had she reacted to anyone like this. Not even when Raven pulled her stunts. Cruel as her lessons were, Raven taught Rogue well. She knew full well how a lady ought to behave herself: respectfully, dignified, not given to overt shows of emotion. A lady remains calm and in control of her emotions. Simply, a lady has class. Rogue had learned to keep herself in check a long time ago, and it only served to frustrate Raven over the years.

And _now,_ barely forty-eight hours after leaving her roof, Rogue was stuttering and blushing and stammering like some little school girl with a crush.

She startled at that thought, sloshing water over the sides of the tub. She did not have a crush! She didn't like Remy! Like that, anyway. She just thought that he was sweet, funny, handsome, charming, had a nice smile and laugh, was confident, very attractive, and he had incredible abs…

But she wasn't crushing on him.

Rogue groaned, the sound muffled by the water, and completely submerged herself under the water.

Nope. She most certainly was not. Not crushing at all.

**

* * *

**

With only a white towel around her form, Rogue could have slapped herself. In her haste, she'd neglected to grab her bag, leaving her only with her sodden clothes. Not that it mattered; the bag that had her clothes in them was probably back with Isaac by now with that traitorous horse.

She stood in front of the door, realizing her situation and feeling herself become embarrassed all over again because of the solution. Sighing, she pulled the towel up higher and tightened it, before opening the door just slightly.

"Uh, Remy?" she called out tentatively.

"Oui, cherie?"

She heard clothe shifting and the swish of cards, thinking he was on the bed.

"I…kinda don't have, um, well, I did, but with those guys from, uh, before I -"

"Quoi?" he questioned, clearly sounding confused.

"I don't have any clothes!" she blurted. "My first horse ran off with them."

At that first sentence, the cards Remy'd been fancy-shuffling flew out of his hands and dropping all over the room. In the immediate silence that followed, if not for the quiet rush of the fire, a pin easily could have been heard. Unseen to Rogue, Remy had his face in his hands, near crying from trying to stifle his laughter.

"'S official. _You _are the unlucky one," he snickered, wiping a tear from his eye.

Rogue scoffed and slammed the door. Remy chuckled as he stood from the bed and moved to one of his bags. He shuffled through it and pulled out a red, long sleeved shirtt that would easily dwarf Rogue's smaller frame. He walked to the bathroom door and knocked. The door almost hit him in the face, but he put up a hand to stop it just before.

"What?" Rogue practically growled at him.

He smugly held up the shirt. She took it, though it was obvious she was _loathe _to do so, and muttered a quick thanks. He nodded and gently closed the door for her. At just that moment, there was a knock at the room door. He went to open it, revealing two employees with dinner carts. With a nod as they passed, they rolled the carts in, setting everything upon a table for two.

"Thank you, gentlemen," he said, affecting the Northern accent once more and slipping both man gold pieces.

The young boys grinned.

"Thank _you,_ sir," as he was saying this, Rogue stepped out of the bathroom. "And have a _very _good night," he said as he shut the door, his partner leaning to the side to peek in.

"Kids," Remy muttered before he turned around.

Rogue wasn't aware of his attention as she'd spotted the food and made a bee-line for it. She wasn't the least bit attentive to the fact that Remy was staring at her hands, legs, and about two inches below her neck. It was the most skin he'd seen her expose, which intrigued him for a reason he didn't know. Certainly not because he'd never seen a woman bare skin before, and much more than what Rogue was showing. After she'd uncovered every dish, she looked up at him.

"Are you eating or what?"

"Bien sur," he said, rousing himself from his contemplations.

"Okay. Could you put a shirt on first?"

He smirked and practically stalked towards her. He took a certain sort of pleasure at her discomfort and embarrassment. Call him sadistic, but he thought it adorable. He stopped maybe a foot from her and asked,

"Do I make you uncomfortable, petite?"

"Not…most of the time," she told him, staring fixedly at his chest.

"What if I told you that ya had my last shirt?"

That got her attention, and her eyes snapped up to his, surprised. He held his best poker face, not revealing a thing. She narrowed her eyes and propped a hand on her hip.

"You're bluffin'."

He held the face for a moment longer before breaking into a smile, moving away to get a shirt.

"Not bad. You play poker any?" he asked with a bag to her, which is why he missed seeing Rogue fan herself with one of the napkins.

"I know the general idea," she said, seating herself into one of the chairs as Remy came to take his own seat.

"Hm. Well, it's still two days from here to New Orleans if we take the river boat in Moss Springs," he commented off-handedly, already reaching to serve himself.

Normally, at every opportunity, he'd wine and dine a lady, but frankly, he was starving. Charming took energy. True, his body supplied kinetic energy, but that used energy in order to make in the first place. Rogue paused in spooning out a helping of honeyed yams.

"We?"

"Yeah, we." he filled his plate as he talked. "Or what, you thought I was just gonna abandon you?"

"You don't have any reason to."

"Rogue, honestly, I worry about you. According to you, you got attacked, your horse ran off with your supplies, you got attacked again, you got pushed out into the rain –" he ignored her eye roll "and now you have no clothes. You _need_ me, and I can't in good conscience leave you all alone. I shudder to think what'd happen to you next."

"I don't need you," she scoffed.

Remy merely shrugged and began to eat. Made no difference whether she admitted it or not; she was not getting rid of him anytime soon.

"But thank you," she conceded, suddenly shy, before dropping her attention to her own plate.

"No problem. Besides all that, I live in New Orleans anyway so you're not too much of an inconvenience."

"His majesty is too gracious."

Remy had to laugh at that one a little. He'd fill her in later. The look on her face would be priceless.

Their dinner went on mostly in silence, the two only occasionally taking teasing jabs at each other. Afterwards, Remy took a bath, entirely too quickly in Rogue's opinion and flung himself onto the bed, sighing contentedly. She was sitting at the vanity table, trying with little success to untangle and dry her wild hair.

She worked her fingers through the thick mass of curls, working out a few kinks and snarls. To her, it seemed like just as she freed a strand, the other curls would wind themselves back together.

"Ow…Remy, do you have a comb?"

"Non," he snorted. "Need some help? You were doin' that before I took a bath."

"Yes, please!"

Remy came to his feet with a grunt and stood behind Rogue. She watched him in the mirror as he examined the problem at hand. She caught the slight crease of his brow and asked,

"Do you think I should just cut it?"

He took a moment, before answering, to run a hand through her damp auburn hair.

"Au contraire, cherie. Keep it long."

Remy went to work disentangling her hair. For him, the soft strands worked with him much easier than for her. Perhaps because he could actually see what he was doing as opposed to her. He began with the tips and worked his way up. Not long after he started, his job was complete. Still, he wasted a few minutes running his hands through her hair anyway. He was careful not to touch her scalp, running his fingers from top to tip, a little past her shoulders.

His gaze flicked up to Rogue. In the mirror, he could see her eyes closed and utterly relaxed. He smiled a little to himself, thinking that if she were a cat, she'd be purring right now.

He wasn't far off. Rogue was in pure bliss. She'd been more uneasy than she let on when she'd agreed to let Remy help her. People didn't touch her. Ever. Letting Remy get close enough to touch her hair made her nervous. Until he started doing it.

The longer he went on, the more Rogue's imagination wandered. His hands were tender and coaxing, soothing really. So if he could do all that just fooling around with her hair, what could he do if he touched the rest of her? What would it be like to kiss him?

Her own feelings surprised her, and as they came to her, Remy could see a light blush spread across her cheeks. Intrigued, he extended just the slightest bit of empathy towards her. A soft gasp escaped him before he could stop it. The force of emotion coming from her was stronger than he thought it would be. The most prominent one out of them felt like utter delight. There was a deep, lingering longing and sadness as well.

A thought, a nagging question, sprang to Remy's mind and unbidden, it spilled from his lips.

"Have you ever been kissed?"

Her eyes snapped opened and shot up to his. She gave him a wary look before answering slowly,

"Once."

She dropped her gaze, and he could feel her building against her emotions. When she looked back at him, she'd completely blocked her emotions from him, which was not something people could effectively go against him.

"Are you done?"

"Yes."

Almost before the word had left his mouth, she'd ducked from under his hands and scurried to her bag in the corner. She pulled a leather strip out, quickly plaited her hair, and tied it at the base. As she'd been doing that, Rogue walked over to the bed and slid under the sheets.

"Thank you, Remy," she said and laid down, turning her back on him.

* * *

Even with the electric lights off, the fire continued to cast a soft glow over the room. Rogue had shifted as far away from Remy as she could without falling off of the bed. Remy lay on his back and watched the shadows dance on the ceiling, longing for sleep. Even without using his empathy, he could feel her discomfort. Certain that she'd fall asleep on her own eventually, but knowing the girl needed her rest for tomorrow, he decided to help calm her. Since _that _particular method was out, he went with small talk.

"Ever been to New Orleans before?"

"No. I've never been anywhere but Caldecott my whole life."

"Caldecott? I've stopped there a couple of times. Nice people."

"Some of 'em," she muttered. "You're lucky you never met Raven."

"Wait. That blue lady with the red hair and blond daughter?"

"No, the other blue lady," she teased.

"…there's more than one?"

He sensed more than heard her sigh.

"I'm kiddin', petite. I know who ya mean. I was sittin' in this restaurant once, that one named after a bird or something, and the blonde just came and sat down, started talkin'."

"Emma. Sounds just like her."

Was it just his imagination, or had her voice lost some of its light-heartedness?

"Rogue?"

"Do you have family?"

He hesitated before going along with her change of subject. But one day…she was going to tell him.

"Oui. Ya could say they found me."

"What do you mean?"

He went on to tell her, in the briefest, glossed over way possible, about how he was an orphan and lived on the streets. While he'd been talking, Rogue had rolled over, so she could see him. He skipped most of that and told her how he _tried _to pick the pocket of the King of Thieves.

"I was terrified when he told me who he was. Thought for sure I was gonna beat me. But he didn't. He asked me my name and told me to look at him when he was talkin'. Been sayin' that a lot since," he glanced at his enraptured audience with a cheeky smile. "I dreaded doin' it, lettin' him see my eyes."

"Why?"

"I'd think it's obvious," he said, sending her a pointed look.

"Not to me," she shook her head as well as she could, laying on her side.

"They see a bit better, but my eyes are jus' eyes like everyone else's. Mais most people don't see that. They see eyes of a demon, and they think the person with them can't be no better than that. Le Diable Blanc."

She stayed quiet long enough that Remy almost gave in to the urge to take a feel at her emotions. He didn't like not knowing what was going on with her. He turned his head to look at the girl to see her staring back at him. She was frowning at him.

"Do you really believe that, Remy? You think you're some kinda monster?"

He shrugged helplessly.

"Well, you're not. What you are is just a moron for listenin' to a bunch of idiots!"

"But Rogue –"

"Don't interrupt me, Remy Lebeau!" she slapped her pillow as she said this and sat up, the better to glare at him.

Stabbing a finger sharply into his chest, she said,

"There is _nothing _wrong with your eyes! Okay? Those people are nothin' short of brain-dead, worthless wastes of life who don't know anythin'. There's somethin' wrong with them! Your eyes are beautiful, and I don't wanna ever hear you say anything different. And you better agree with me too, 'cause if ya don't I'll… well, I don't know what I'll do, but I promise you won't like it!"

Remy simply stared at her, completely speechless. Not only was this Rogue defending him to himself and threatening him, she thought his eyes were beautiful. _His eyes._ The things that had been the bane of his existence since he was born. He'd never said it aloud, but he was certain that was why his parents abandoned him and knew that was why no one ever took him at the orphanage. Yet, she liked them. She thought they were _beautiful..._

She was truly indignant over what people thought of his eyes and didn't like that he seemed to agree with them. Actually that was putting it mildly. She was livid. Furious. And for the love of everything good in the world, she looked gorgeous.

Some of her auburn hair had come out of the plait she'd done and curled every which way. The platinum streaks were pulled back and blended in with the rest of it. Her eyes sparkled silver, shaded by her long lashes. Her skin was pale as the moon, making her seem near ethereal. It left him wondering how incredibly _soft_ she had to be. Her full, pink lips near _begged _for him to kiss them. That raised another question. Just _who _had been the one to get her first kiss?

His eyes took in every detail of her, and it was all he could to _not _touch her. All he could do to just _not_ kiss the breath out of this amazing, stunning creature. But there was a reason he shouldn't do that. Granted, at the moment, he wasn't completely recalling what the reason was, but it had to be a good reason if he was hesitating. Hesitation, especially when it came to women, was not something Remy practiced. Ever. His gaze flitted down her form, _wearing his shirt. _It had _better_ be a good reason. A very, _very _good.

"Do you understand me, Remy?" she asked, her tone low and somewhat dangerous.

He very nearly trembled when she said his name like that.

"Oui, ma cherie," he answered, his own voice taking on a husky sound.

She smiled, and in his eyes, it lit up the whole room.

"Good," she removed her hand from his chest and slid back under her blankets. "You can tell me the rest of your story in the morning. 'Night, Remy."

He cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back to normal.

"Bon nuit."

Eh, close enough. Within minutes, Rogue's breathing evened out. Remy slowly reached out a hand, feeling the silkiness of it. For a moment, he thought that perhaps he was crossing some kind of unspoken boundary, touching her when she couldn't do anything about it. But then, it was _just _hair. And she hadn't minded earlier, other than blushing uncontrollably. His hand gently travelled the length of her hair, and he was fascinated by the way the strands curled around his fingers. Rogue sighed and smiled lightly in her sleep under his ministrations.

Later, Remy fell asleep, unaware that he had indeed crossed a line. He was starting on a path that he could not have foreseen when he left New Orleans only a week ago. But one wise old lady, born and raised in the bayous, smiled knowingly. She sat out on the porch of a grand New Orleans home in her rocking chair. There was a change in the air, coming from the east.

She shook her head, saying a silent prayer for that fool child to make it home soon. She wanted to see it with her own eyes.

There was a change in the air that night.

* * *

A/N: I am so glad I didn't go with the barn idea. Don't ask. I gave _myself _goosebumps writing this chapter. Or that may be because my mother's trying to kill me by not turning on the heater and freezing me to death. But I like the former.

In this genre, where I'm working with an earlier, unspecified, mixed era, coin is the mode of money of choice. We've totally upgraded over the centuries. Paper is much better than gold and silver, right? And you know how tan is the thing to be or whatever? Way back, it was paler the better. So theoretically, Rogue would be very popular. They used to put powder on their faces, but some of it actually made them sick and messed up their skin. I think that's what Queen Elizabeth the first died from. They also didn't bathe regularly…at all.

So I'm 500 words in chapter 4, skipping and rewinding through conversations and scenes and what not before it hits me, and my mind pauses on a scene…Remy has a legitimate reason to take off his shirt. Pardon me a moment while I fan-girl…

…

…

…

'Kay, I'm done. Don't ask why he's doing that in front of her when it would make more sense to do it in the bathroom. He just has no shame.

Does anyone else switch between Evo Remy and movie Remy at certain points? Or just me? It was hard to pick back up my line of thought because I stopped and went to bed and when I came back, it wasn't working as well for me. I'm thinking I was a bit distracted. Most people would be when they find out their teachers ARE ALL INSANE! But you know, whatever. I am happy. I am blessed. This is ALL a trial. It will pass…in about five months.

I am happy. XD.

I'm just full of rambling random today, aren't I? I had coffee and I do believe I just experienced a bit of vertigo…sitting down…on the floor.

Did you know that Ichabod meant 'without glory'?


	6. Six

**Fudge-it!** (that's her [I assume her] name), I adore that idea. It's a piece of brilliance.

* * *

The fire burns lowly now, near to embers. It serves to shed more shadow than light. The coolness has crept through the room, and it seems to Remy that the fire's stealing back all of the heat it gave before.

Hours later found Remy waking from his sleep, though he couldn't lay a finger on the exact why of it. The rain had stopped hours ago, and he lay still, listening for anything that shouldn't be. All he heard was the fire, the usual creaks of an old house, and Rogue's breathing. Satisfied there was no threat, he allowed himself to relax and ponder just why he'd woken up.

He usually slept like a rock, even when he wasn't at home. The cold's not really a setback for him either. He simply didn't have the problem. It possibly had something to do with his mutation, but he never really thought about it. His new…_friend_ was not so fortunate.

Once the fire had started to wane, Rogue stirred in her sleep. When that didn't seem to work, she curled in on herself. Remy told himself she was fine. It's not like he could help her. That would require contact, snuggling even.

Her earlier attitude and words gave sway to the idea that he was not to touch her. Yes, it probably would be bad if she knocked him out while she was unconscious. Very bad.

Still, he finds himself gently pulling her closer to him; for the sake of sharing body warmth is what he tells himself. He suddenly feels chilly. Yes, that's it. And if she wakes up before him and asks why _they are touching_, he'll say she's on his side of the bed. Nevermind he put her there. Need to know information.

Touching wasn't so bad. The sky hadn't turned to fire, and he was still breathing. As long as she never found out about this, there'd be no problems. He certainly wouldn't tell her. Ever. As much as he believed that she was an innocent, she still had a temper, and he'd just seen a bit of it. He rather enjoyed living. He enjoyed it a little bit more when her arm went over his chest, and she pressed herself closer.

It didn't take him too long to fall back to sleep after that.

* * *

Rogue couldn't remember ever being so comfortable in all her life. Warmth and contentment nearly lulled her back to sleep. She almost did, even going as far as to nestle further into the comfortable heat next to her. A spicy, earthen scent filled her senses, and a thought occurred to her. Why did she feel a pulse?

Slowly, she opened her eyes and blinked in the lighted room. The curtains hadn't been properly closed last night, and muted sunlight shone through still-grey clouds. Even so, it was enough light to remind Rogue of her sleeping arrangement the previous night.

Her eyes widened almost comically, and her mouth fell open a little. She felt her entire face turn red as she realized that her legs were tangled with a lightly snoring Remy's, and she was half-way on top of him, one arm across him. His arms were loosely wrapped around her waist.

The only reason she hadn't gone into hysterics was that the pulse she felt moments ago must be his. As it was, she was near to hyperventilating and thought her heart might burst from her chest at any moment. He'd survived the night. Which was good. And if she moved carefully, she'd get out of this compromising position with some form of dignity. That would be even better.

Now wide awake, Rogue moved with great care, attempting to disentangle her legs first. Her foot nudged against Remy's knee, and he made a questioning grunt in his sleep. She held her breath until she was certain he wasn't waking up, then pulled her left leg free. Just as she felt a moment's relief, Remy drastically changed their positions.

His arms tightened around her, and Rogue had to hold back a squeak of surprise. He rolled over, leaving them in such a way that Rogue's side was pressed against his chest. She made an attempt to wriggle out of his arms, but Remy tucked his head onto her shoulder. She could feel his hot breath on her shoulder through the material of her borrowed shirt and shivered.

Rogue took a moment to take stock of her situation. She was, for all intents and purposes, trapped in a bed with a man she met about three days ago who, in his unconscious state, seemed to have no intention of letting her go. In order to avoid embarrassment, she'd prefer for him to stay asleep but couldn't get out of the bed herself. If by some miracle, which is what it would take at this point, she managed to get out of his grasp, she couldn't do much. She had no clothes.

That's only looking at the glass half empty though. On the optimistic side, she was being cuddled by, for all intents and purposes, her handsome, prince charming on a black horse. If one squinted a certain way, it didn't seem as if he could bare to let her go.

Rogue rolled her eyes at her own thoughts even as her hands slid over Remy's sleeved arm that lay across her belly. She nearly laughed at the irony. Being some man's bed partner had been what she'd been trying to avoid in the first place. Having a man – one she'd never met at that – actually _buy _her and expecting for her to indulge in his fantasies was something she'd never allow. Ever.

There was a marked difference in this circumstance. For one thing, sharing a bed had been Remy's idea. She almost felt guilty, using him while he couldn't do anything about it. But he didn't seem to mind contact with her before.

When Rogue was younger, even before her powers had manifested, she'd often takes flights to wonderful castles in the sky. There, she was being held by someone who loved her. As a little girl, she'd loved nothing and no one more than her father, and he often filled that role. When Raven's abuse became too much, she retreated away where the words and the blows couldn't reach her. Where someone would tell her 'I love you' and give her a kiss, a hug or just hold her hand! But she always had to come back down where no one did any of those things for her. After a while, her little dreams stopped, and she put away all of these foolish thoughts. Because it started to hurt when none of it came true.

But Remy was here, and he was warm, and _alive._ He was real. As simple as that in the hazy, grey morning, Rogue allowed herself to daydream. Just for that morning. After he woke up, she promised, it was back to reality.

Besides, where would she go without clothes anyway?

Rogue closed her eyes, the better to see her imagined world, and held her gloved hand over Remy's. Remy cracked open an eye, taking in the small smile on Rogue's lips. With a smirk of his own, he shut his eye and took to some fanciful thoughts of his own.

* * *

When next she woke, she found herself alone in the large bed. Rogue rolled to her belly, pushed herself up, and pulled her knees under her.

"Bon matin."

She heard Remy's voice from behind her. She turned her head towards Remy, standing by the table and placing the last platter there from the cart.

"Perfect timing, cherie. Breakfast is served," he told her with a grin.

Rogue stared at him stupidly. He was fully dressed in different clothes than yesterday. It was merely a black suit, though the jacket was draped across the back of a chair leaving him in a white shirt. Did he really keep a suit packed in his bags all the time? Remy glanced up at her from the plates he was arranging just so and arched a brow.

"Are you trying to get me to serve you breakfast in bed?"

Instead of answering, Rogue yawned. Remy grunted and began loading a plate for Rogue and himself. He poured orange juice into crystal glasses. In short order, he delivered these to Rogue, who had enough sense to tuck her bare legs under the sheets, and joined her on the bed. He thought it a little funny how she stared at her food, as if wondering just what she was supposed to do with it.

"You're very much not a morning person," he stated.

She shrugged and only then did she pick up her fork and begin to eat. Remy smiled to himself, a little smugly. He somehow sensed that Rogue wasn't going to open for conversation just yet and only opened his mouth to eat for the next few minutes. Rogue eventually came alive enough to do the same.

Once they were finished with breakfast, Rogue became a little more awake. Still, she kept quiet because now that she thought about it, the more she was a little ashamed by her earlier behavior. Remy took their plates back to the cart then came and flopped back on the bed. The first thing out of his mouth was,

"So how did you sleep?"

She felt herself blush as he stared at her, waiting for her answer. It might be her imagination, but she heard something in his tone. No way did he know about what she did, right? Oh, she hoped not. It was perfectly innocent in any case. She also thought it to be incredibly embarrassing.

"Fine," she answered in a small voice.

"Rogue, you okay?"

Despite the question, she could tell he was playing with her a little.

"I'm fine, Remy. When's check-out time?"

"Some time this afternoon, according to the desk boy, the road's back that way are flooded from the rain."

"What about where we're headed?"

"You have no idea how it warms my heart to hear you say 'we'. As far as I've been able to find out, _our _way's clear. By the way, do you get sea sick?"

"What?"

"Well, it might be more like river sickness what with it bein' a river boat and all."

"I'm not following you here, Remy."

"Didn't I tell ya before? We either gonna take a boat or train to N'awlins. Me, I'm leanin' more towards a boat than a train."

"Oh. I don't think I do. I've never been on a boat before."

"Rogue, ma cherie," he patted her knee through the sheet, "I have so much to show you outside of your little ol' Caldecott."

"Yeah, well, I'm thinkin' I should get some new clothes before this grand adventure you got planned."

Remy smirked with a self-satisfied way.

"You know, ya don't entirely do," he said and winked.

"Remy!" she whined. "Too early for this!"

"Desole. I'll put a handicap on it. And don' worry 'bout clothes. I got people on stand-by to come around when you woke up. Now that you're pseudo-awake and fed," he stood from his reclined position, "you can be fitted for your dresses."

"Dresses?" she asked with mild distaste.

She'd gotten very used and attached to the pants. They were very freeing. And the no corset thing. She'd discovered being able to breathe was very nice.

"Oui, dresses. I hate to break it to ya, mais you make a terrible man. In that get-up, you only draw more attention to yourself."

Rogue huffed and crossed her arms.

"Oh, come on, chere. If Remy was piss-drunk, half-blind and you was wearin' your boy clothes, he'd still know you were a woman. Wanna know how?"

"Enlighten me, he who knows all," she said dryly.

"There are five reasons I can think of right off, but your main reason is your walk."

"What's wrong with the way I walk?"

"Oh, absolutely nothing! You have a _belle tour, chere. _Simply, men walk with their legs; women walk with their hips. Y'all got this sashay goin' on that you really can't help. It'd actually be a shame if you stopped."

"You are an incredible flirt."

Remy suddenly turned fully to her and leaned down with his hands on either side of her hips. Rogue's eyes went wide at the close proximity, and she felt pulse pick up again. This man was going to give her a heart attack, to be sure.

"Do you want me to stop?" he drawled out in a husky whisper.

Her gaze fixated on his eyes, the red of them sparking mischief and something she dared not put a name to. For a moment, fancy took hold, and she thought he might kiss her. She thought she might kiss him back. The very idea almost made her light-headed. Then reality grounded her before she could get too far.

That wasn't going to happen. Even if the idea had gone through his head, he couldn't very well act on it. Still, she enjoyed the attention and couldn't truthfully say she wanted it to stop.

"You…could tone it down a bit," she whispered back to him.

Remy only offered her a smile that held no promises. He took her left hand, said,

"I'll see what I can do,"

And kissed it before he backed off. He turned to go again, plucking his suit jacket off the chair, and left the room. Leaving Rogue. Alone, barring her psyches, with her thoughts. This was almost never a good thing.

It was somewhere between staring dumbly at her gloved hand and getting her heart and breathing to function normally that she realized with a sudden,

"Oh, dear."

Oh, dear. She had a problem. A very large, complicated problem. With no solution in sight. When she was younger, her father used to read her fairy tales of girls rescued by their shining knight on a white horse, and they fall in love and live happily ever after. Rogue didn't at all appreciate the irony that she needed a rescue from her mysterious champion. Because from where she was standing, there wasn't going to be anything 'happily' about her ever after.

* * *

A/n: Yes. I'm stopping it there.

**LordShade**, it didn't happen this chapter, obviously. I'm ready to get out of this town, and **blackberryhuntress** gave me a good point to work towards. It's not in this chapter though. But don't worry, he'll get his.

You wouldn't believe how hard it was to get these two out of the bed XD

Is it just me, or is anyone else woefully put in their place when they read actual, published novels?

Chris August 'the campfire song'. LISTEN TO IT! It's so very nice C:


	7. Seven

You guys simply must be grateful to **blackberyyhunttress **for helping me get through this. Because this chapter has been kicking my butt, and Kazoo's just over there like, 'This is so not my fight.', but BB's had my back with it. Thank you, girl!

Even though she won't tell me about my chapter…tell me, BB, or I'll – I'll…um…Oh! I'll have Kazoo steal your shirtless Remy clone and replace him with Wade!

* * *

Rogue had taken to walking the length of the room after Remy left, trapped in the quiet with her own thoughts. And her head was telling her something her heart didn't want to hear. She was getting too reliant on Remy; she needed to get away from him. They were going to have to split ways anyway so better to do it now before she got too attached.

She almost agreed with that before her heart told her to stay. She was being ridiculous. Nothing was wrong with staying with him. In fact, everything was better with him around. It was okay to let him do things for her. And who says that two of them have to separate?

Rogue reached the sitting area and sank into one of the overstuffed chairs. None of this was in any way a part of the plan. Not that she'd had much of a plan to begin with, but Remy was…he wasn't supposed to happen.

She was scared. Remy had her feelings things she'd never felt before. She'd had a crush, once, on this boy. He was one of the cook's sons. He'd been the youngest out of five, and the two of them grew up together and were the best of friends. After she'd hit thirteen, naturally, David qualified perfectly with his blond hair and blue eyes for her first puppy love. Unfortunately, thirteen was also when her powers manifested, and her first kiss under the moon light had been her last.

That felt like it happened forever ago. Still, her memory was clear on how her younger self had felt about David then. Those feelings were her only comparison to how she was feeling about Remy now. There was a _vast_ difference in near to every possible way.

Once upon a time, fair maid is rescued by prince and all live happily ever after. All well and lovely and good. Sugarplums and gumdrops.

This wasn't a fairy tale though. This was her life and very much happening.

The curse is broken at true love's kiss. One kiss from her would drop him faster than a hammer to the head.

Did she love him? Rogue sat very still, fingering the cuffs of the overly long sleeves. No. She didn't love Remy. But it would be _far, far _too easy to let herself. She was scared there'd be no one to catch her though.

In one part, she agreed with her head: get away from Remy. That would make everything simpler if she wasn't with him. It'd be easier to let this go now.

She stood from her seat and headed into the bathroom. Last night, she'd hung her clothes over the curtain rail. She removed her gloves and laid them on the sink while she fingered the material. Everything was still damp.

However, her heart seemed to say, almost smug, that she didn't want to leave him. She didn't want to let it go.

Her head was beginning to ache, going in circles this way.

In the end, it wasn't difficult to decide what to do. Her clothes were still wet.

* * *

He lied. He didn't have seamstresses on stand-by. The cobble streets were now leading him to a shop not far from the hotel to ensure that he wasn't a complete liar though. Acquiring them was one of the things he'd do later on.

At present moment, Remy strolled along the broad walk with an easy stride. Seemingly a man with no destination, not a care in the world, but entirely confident in his place. And that place must be one of import. Really, he only meant to go to the tailor shop he'd gotten his suit from earlier. It was perhaps a five minute walk to the East of the Mahoney Place. Remy was headed South. He'd circle back later.

All things in perspective, he needed to think. Something he hadn't been doing properly in _her _presence. Which was ridiculous, given who he was and his impressive record. His cousin kept meticulous notes.

It'd mostly slipped his mind that she hadn't anymore clothes to wear. His mind had been vaguely aware of that, but more focused on the other implications of such a predicament. Rogue was much too distracting. He needed to focus on getting them to New Orleans safely and finding her uncle. Thinking about her in _that_ way, in any way other than platonic, was uneasy territory right now and would only get him in trouble. Not because of her abilities. Oh, no. No, there were ways around such things. If he were to get a thin scarf or something, then he could –

No! No, Remy. Stop thinking that. Those are _not _platonic thoughts. Think about the people who are probably going to come after you to kill you.

Taylor hadn't given up so easily, he was certain. He'd probably sent more men, and not for the first time, Remy berated himself for being so sloppy in the first place. Aside from the man after him, Rogue was wanted for her own reason. It couldn't be her _step_-mother. Obviously, there was no love between them. Before, she'd said something about someone selling her. Had the woman sold her step-daughter?

As much as he disapproved, families often made 'deals' for X amount of money or property in exchange for a marriage. Is that what Rogue was running from? Such deals had to have an agreement from both parties. After all, no man of law or God would force two unwilling people to marry. But that was only if they were both legal adults, that being eighteen. If one were under their guardian's authority, they could very well enforce the minor's marriage.

He frowned to himself, annoyed with what he didn't know. Like her age. Surely, she was at least eighteen. Right? Please say she's eighteen. She certainly _looked _it. But oh, none of his family would ever let it go if he was –

…wait.

Remy stopped very suddenly in front of a jewelry store. From inside, a dark haired worker could see the man in the nice suit through the window, staring into space with a dawning look of dread.

What if she was already married?

No. No way. He refused to believe that.

The woman employee watched the man jerk his head in a negative shake and arched a slim brow.

She wasn't married. No way. She didn't _act_ married. Even the ones who didn't like the husbands had a certain way about them, and he could just _tell. _He refused to believe that he was being at all biased in his opinion and denied any possibility of it. Maybe it was an emphatic thing, maybe he was a good guesser, but he knew. There's no way she's married.

Taryn saw the man blink and glance around him. He looked at the cigarette he'd pulled out of his jacket as if he didn't know he it'd gotten there. He looked up and caught her gaze through the window.

Remy saw the girl staring at him through the window and thought about how he must have looked standing in the middle of the walk like that. How long had he zoned out?

Ridiculous! The woman had him making a fool of himself, and she wasn't anywhere near him.

Then he noticed what kind of store the girl was in and tucked the cigarette back in his pocket. Well, he was here so why not? As he walked through the door, he decided to play a role and case the store. Just a little harmless fun.

Anything to distract him from his distraction. When he looked back on it, it would have been wiser had he heeded his surroundings a bit more.

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Rogue grumbled to herself.

Since her earlier musings, she'd resolved to do something to keep her mind from imploding in on itself and set about cleaning the room. Truthfully, there hadn't been much. And the bed situation…she was halfway certain that the amount of pillows had multiplied at some point. No sooner did she place one pillow on the bed than she'd turn around and find another one. It was as if they were multiplying.

She glared at the one she held, tempted to throw it and every other one she found out the window. Instead, she pushed the childish impulse away and stacked it on the bed with the rest. Satisfied that everything was properly placed, she turned and promptly tripped over a pillow poking out from under the bed. Barely catching herself mid-stumble, Rogue growled, snatched the offensive cushion up, and hurled it at the door.

At that exact moment, Remy opened it.

Luckily, for the sake of nothing else but his dignity, Remy ducked under it, and it sailed into the hallway. It hit the wall with a satisfying thump as a few feathers slipped out of it, and Remy straightened up as the pillow hit the floor. He sent a glance to the pillow then to Rogue.

Feeling far too self-righteous to be embarrassed by her behavior, she smiled, what seemed to him, coyly.

"Hi there."

Some things just should not be addressed, he decided.

"Hello, darling" he replied in the Northern accent with a grin of his own as he gestured behind him. "Please come in."

A petite woman with Asian features stepped through the doors. An amused smile lit her features, and her dark hair is pulled back in a long pony tail. A stiff, leather satchel rested on her left shoulder. Behind her, no less than six bell boys are straining to carry various cases through the door. One looked like it could easily fit a body or two in it.

"Darling," Remy says, and it's a moment before she realizes he's addressing her. "This is Miss Lee."

"Oh, my," Miss Lee placed a hand to her cheek and stared with something akin to horror, "I can't believe the carriage drivers lost your luggage," she swept forward and fingered the sleeve of the shirt, "and left you with only your husband's clothes," she looked up to meet Rogue's gaze, "I'd have died right there on the spot. Well, after I gave the nimrods a piece of my mind," she flashed Rogue a smile, "But don't worry; your husband has commissioned me to alter some of these dresses for you, and you will look ravishing!"

There was a pregnant pause where Rogue didn't quite know if it was her turn to speak. During Miss Lee's introduction and reassurance, Remy had eased his way further in to block Rogue – and her legs. Mostly her legs – from view of the bell hops. He'd directed them to place the cases along one wall and coolly ushered them out the door.

It took a moment, but Rogue was able to slip into her role as a lady with practiced ease, man's shirt and all.

"Thank you, Miss Lee. I really do appreciate you comin' here like this," she breathed a somewhat bitter laugh at the thought of being a wife. "And you must call me Mandy."

"Well, then you will call me Jubilee. And if I talk too much, and it starts to annoy you, let me know."

With her back to him, Jubilee missed Remy's quirked brow and mouthed 'Mandy'?

"Oh, no, not at all. I've had no one to talk to but him," Rogue replied with a nod to Remy, who was still absently puzzling over 'Mandy'.

No way was that her name, in any variation. He just couldn't see her as a _Mandy_.

Jubilee stifled a laugh behind her hand at the sour look Remy deigned to grace 'Mandy' with as he stalked towards her.

"I resent that."

"I'm sorry," she smiled at him.

"No, you're not," he scoffed, close enough to touch her now.

"Will you forgive me anyway?"

"Will you give me a choice?" he cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.

"'Course not, cher."

It was almost comical how his face went from playful skepticism to stunned delight. Who could blame him? Rogue didn't flirt back; she blushed red to her roots and sputtered and looked adorable. She didn't flirt back and had never called him anything other than Remy. Don't think he was complaining though.

Oh, no, far from it.

Jubilee stood to the side of them, watching the interaction wide eyed. 'Lenoir' gazing at his 'wife' with such tenderness, and the playfulness between the two... It was all she could to not sigh and swoon at the two. They were just so cute! She, however, was a professional and shook herself out of her daze.

"Really, you two, we have no time for this," she winked and lightly shook a finger more at 'Lenoir'. "You, sir, told me that you needed these dresses as soon as possible, and I intend to hold to our deal. Now, out," she shooed him, "Husband or no, I do not allow men to be present while I work. Not only does it slow the process considerably, it'd ruin all the surprise."

"Of course," Remy agreed. "Mandy," his lips twitched at the name as he took her hand, keeping the sleeve of her shirt between their skin, "I will see you later."

He pressed a kiss to her covered wrist, and Rogue smiled, despite herself. With a nod to Jubilee, Remy departed. Both women stood staring at the door he'd gone through, nearly identical expressions of enchantment painting their faces.

"Whoa," Jubilee sighed in one breath and wiped the look away in the next. "All right then, Mandy, enough of this. We've much work to do before supper this evening."

Rogue turned to her, only having heard that part about supper. She'd need to get used to being called Mandy for a while.

"It's just past breakfast though."

"Yes, well, Mr. Lenoir informed me that you two would be dining in the hall tonight, and you'd need a suitable dress. Fortunate we have so much time, but not to waste."

She walked over to the largest case she'd had brought in, that may have actually been a small wardrobe. Pulling it open revealed at least two dozen dresses. Jubilee turned to her and beckoned her with a finger.

"You're going to love these."

Rogue came to stand before the dresses and attentively reached out to finger the jeweled toned material. The colors ranged from bright, fiery red to a light, powder blue.

"We'll pick out three for just tonight at first, then we'll pick out the rest of your wardrobe from these here," she gestured to another, slightly smaller box.

She merely nodded to words she only half-heard. Under Raven's rule, dresses such as these went to herself and her daughters. The clothes she provided for Rogue were more suited to someone of a working station. For appearances sake, the only times Rogue had ever worn something _almost_ as fine as this were the few times Raven had extended guests and thought perhaps it an opportune moment to allow Rogue out of her room.

Rogue pushed dark thoughts away and focused on the task at hand. Because Raven wasn't here, and these dresses were not for that woman.

"These are beautiful."

"Thank you. We try," Jubilee grinned cheekily.

"But," Rogue pulled a blue dress from the rack, "do you have anything that's not so low cut?"

"Well…"

Jubilee considered the dress held for inspection. It was a bit much – or less, depending on how one looked at it. The design was a flowing, empire waist with a sweet heart neckline. The plunge was a drastic one.

Rogue hardly cared much for what the popular fashion was. She merely did not want a dress with a neckline so low that _Emma_ would have been able to call her a trollop without scorn.

"That is a bit, erm…_exaggerated_. It's the more popular style now though so," she moved back to the dresses, going through them, "most of these are like that on – ooh! Here we go."

She stepped back and pulled out a dark violet gown. It was made from some silken, shimmering material with the sleeves stopping at quarter length. The neckline for this one was of the bateau style, going from shoulder to shoulder.

Rogue gasped. Never in her life had she gasped over a piece of clothing before, but this piece was something like a work of art.

Jubilee smiled, pleased with the reaction.

"You think it's something now; just wait 'til you get it on!"

Jubilee urged her to go behind the screen to change clothes. While Rogue was getting the dress on, she went about getting a few necessary items for the fitting and laid them on the bed. Or what she could. The thing was absolutely covered in a ridiculous amount of pillows.

"Almost got it, Mandy?"

"Yeah, almost. I'm sorry I'm takin' so long."

"Oh, no need to apologize," she crawled onto bed and threw a majority of the pillows off. "We've plenty of time," she kicked a few under the bed, "and rushing is never something you want to do when it comes to clothes," she looked around for a place for the others and decided on the window.

Through the window, actually.

With the air of one satisfied with a job well done, Jubilee dusted off her hands and went back to arranging her equipment on the now clear bed. She then went to the boxes of still to search for the corset to go with that style of dress. Another cases, and out of it, she pulled out a short stool for 'Mandy' to stand on.

"Am I supposed to be able to button this?"

"Probably not," Jubilee replied. "Come around here and I'll help you."

Rogue came from around the partition, holding the back of the dress. Jubilee adjusted the stays with quick pulls and ties and did up the buttons and commanded for her to turn. She did as she was told and came to a stop under the dark haired woman's critical gaze.

"Is something wrong with it?" Rogue asked, concerned.

She really, _really _liked this dress, and Jubilee didn't look very happy with it. She began to circle around her, one hand on hip, the other under her chin.

"The sleeves fit perfect, but the waist and bust are far too loose," she reached down for the skirt, "And that goes long as well. But," she straightened drew a finger across her own shoulder to shoulder, "I do like this neckline on you. It's lovely. Just step onto that stool there, and we'll get started with alterations. It's nothing too major."

Rogue went to stand atop the stool, holding the skirt up so she wouldn't trip over it.

"Oh, did I show you this?" Jubilee asked.

In her hands, she held up the whale-boned corset she'd laid out on the bed.

"Is that the corset for this?" she asked in dubious horror at the extravagant and _tiny_ contraption.

She grimaced at the article, already imagining how tight and constricting it would be. The few times Raven had her wear one of those, she'd been certain she'd pass out. That might have had to do with the fact she couldn't eat anything while in it. That one looked ten times worse than hers had. The top slimmed down towards the middle, narrowing impossibly where her waist would be. Jubilee glanced down at the…thing, turning it in her hands, and frowned.

"Your husband wants me to give you dresses, not suffocate you," she murmured and casually tossed it over her shoulder. "I hate those things," she declared as she came back to Rogue's side.

She plucked pins from the pin cushion strapped to her wrist and began to fit the dress to Rogue's figure.

"You're so slim, and your posture is perfect so you don't need one anyway," she continued, speaking as fast as she altered the dress, "We'll just give you a light stays and keep this our little secret. A silly French invention created to suit their fancy. And what the French do," she rolled her eyes, "Well, we'd be barbarians not to follow. Really, I don't think women should wear corsets. But especially those, uh, _heavily endowed_ women, y'know. Hold your arm out, please."

"You mean in the chest?" Rogue asked in an attempt to hold up some kind of conversation.

The woman went a mile a minute, and she was impressed with herself that she caught of what was said. Though she talked a lot, it was amusing. She decided she liked the chatty seamstress.

"Oh, them too," Jubilee waved a hand flippantly, "But all over, I mean. This one woman, big as you and me put together. Watch I don't poke you now," she kneeled down beside her to take in the hem, "She had this grand party to go to and _insisted_ on the finest, tightest corset we had to go with the most garish dress you've ever seen," a laugh escaped her, "Looked like a giant peach. Anyway, she _demanded_ that we take the sides in, and _literally_ had us sow her into it. Her _assets_ were practically popping out the top!" she threw back her shoulders for emphasis' sake then warned, "Don't laugh; you'll move too much!"

Rogue bit her lip to aid in that. Jubilee muffled a laugh against her hand and cleared her throat. The two remained in silence for a moment as the hem was adjusted. An amused tension hung in the air that the ladies tried to keep at bay and felt that conversation would end in some kind of fit of hilarity on their parts.

While neither wished to dilly-dally about, the silence started to become odd following the animated from before.

"The linings are made of whale bone," Rogue began.

"Oh, I know," Jubilee sighed, "Those poor whales."

Rogue glanced down at Jubilee who peeked up at her. The ladies simply burst into laughter.

* * *

A/N: So, BB helped me out so much, that it spawned quite a large word count. So, there are two nearly done chapters after this one. Not done though. Keep that in mind.

Oh, and BB? TELL ME! Or post it! Guys, is it not cruel to tell someone that you have something for them, but won't tell them what it is and make them wait weeks to find out?


	8. Eight

Hi.

This would have been posted sooner, but then my sister came home and she's all 'I want cereal and movies' so we went to Redbox and the Dollar Store and had a movie night and 'Salt' lady is a bad, _bad _you-know-what and 'The Fighter' people drop the F-bomb a ridiculous amount, but I like boxing and Mark Wahlberg. Then it was like one in the AM so sleep. Then there was church. Then there was 'Tangled' which I love! I very nearly cried and laughed like a fool and the whole time, I'm like 'That's so Remy'! Then church again, with ice cream afterward. Then we came home past my bedtime.

Then it was Monday…0.0 Ye know not my dread and terror…

Then I realized that this chapter's not as done as I keep thinking. Just head and feet with no real guts in the middle.

And all this actually happened last Saturday.

So basically, you can blame my sister.

However, none of you wished to know that. Still, now you are informed. At the end of this sentence, you, hopefully, will begin to be entertained.

* * *

While Rogue was occupied upstairs, Remy had found something to distract and entertain him at the same time. Downstairs, there was a gaming room located next to the dining room of the Mahoney Hotel. In that room were many tables with many men fated to hand over their money to Remy.

Dark paneled walls with low lanterns on all the tables seemed to make the room appear larger than it was. In the purposely flickering light, the poker faces on every player seemed resolute, never giving away any defense or any mark of an attack. It gave sway to the thought that whoever had decorated the room knew a thing or two about poker. Proper atmosphere was half the game.

Remy was very glad someone had listened to him about the décor last time he was here. Complaining certainly worked miracles, in this place at least. Besides, the low lighting helped to hide his eyes, as long as they weren't glowing. This meant that thinking about the young woman getting dressed upstairs was a definite mistake. So he forced his thoughts away from such dangerous territory and focused on making the cards he was dealing slide through his fingertips like fish through water.

He smirked a little. As good as their poker faces were, his was better, and he could read those of others relatively well. A little empathy didn't hurt either.

Though young he was at nineteen, Remy Lebeau knew poker. It was all deception and mind games, reading the other guy, and maybe a quick turn of card. It wasn't cheating if no one saw it. That was skill. Playing with thieves and assassins all his life definitely helped with the mastery of such.

Thinking more about the game, he allowed his cocky smile to show. He felt their wariness shoot up. This was going to be downright fun.

* * *

Quite recovered from the giggling attack, Jubilee had returned to the alterations. She'd finished and had Rogue go around the screen to remove the dress and put on the robe while she made sure none of the pins had come out of place. After fussing with it to her satisfaction, Jubilee had called for a bell-boy to take the dress that she took great care to package in one of the boxes back to the shop so that another girl could begin sewing it up at the shop. She'd scrawled a short message and tucked it into the box and sent it on its way.

They'd re-done the process of finding a proper dress, and this time, one of a deep green design was chosen. However, this one needed some definite changes to the neckline, but both women agreed it was too fabulous to disregard entirely. While Jubilee muttered to herself as she fussed over the dress, Rogue stood at the wardrobe once again.

Her attention and thoughts weren't so much on the dresses at all. They'd trailed off on their own to what had been a well-worn topic as of late.

When Remy told her he was getting her clothes, she hadn't expected all this. Rogue didn't pretend to know a lot about dresses, but she knew quality when she saw it. The attention to detail, the stich, the fabric all showed high-grade merchandise and major _expense_. And calling up a seamstress and seemingly having a workshop on stand-by took some serious coin too.

She wasn't sure how much she still had, but there was some money in the one bag she had left. Not enough to cover all of this, not even their room.

_Their room…_That was a daunting thought all its own.

These facts didn't leave her thinking of how kind and considerate he was for all of this. Instead, she wondered what his game was. Yes, he'd saved her, and things were going very well for right now. With her, things never stayed good for very long.

Besides…thinking poorly of him, doubting him…would help with the separation. The one she still wasn't entirely sure she was going to go through with at this point.

Surely her clothes were dry by now…

"Do you see any other dresses you like?" Jubilee asked, glancing up from her work.

"Hm? Oh. Either this," she held up a golden dress with a slim, sheath skirt "Or the grey one."

"Oh, honey, go with the gold. The grey one would just mute you out."

"What?"

"Well, I mean…what _do_ I mean?" she mused to herself. "Okay, it's like…with that dress, it'd be too easy to overlook you. The gold color is light enough that it wouldn't look odd against your skin, but it's still enough to shine."

Rogue considered her words for a moment before smiling knowingly. In the few hours of knowing each other, the two women treated each other with an ease that one associates with years of friendship. This led to them speaking a bit more candidly than those of a regular acquaintance would.

Frankly, Rogue was enjoying female interaction that, for the first time in years, wasn't underlying or openly hostile. The few servants of Raven's household certainly weren't cruel to her but saw better to ignore her. Raven would not have been above removing them from her employ.

As for Isaac's long service and friendship, that had more to do with the fact that there was little to no interaction between him and Raven. The stables were never a place her father's wife had frequented. Her smile widened, remembering the gruff, old man who helped raise her.

She wished him well, and regarding Jubilee, asked, "You completely just pulled that out of the air, didn't you?"

"Not completely," Jubilee chuckled good-naturedly. "There was an article about it in _Godey's Lady Book._ Do you read it?"

Vaguely, she remembered hearing the title before. It was a fashion magazine that Emma and Jean were obsessed with. She remembered she'd look through one before, but hadn't found anything very worthwhile in it.

"Not really. I like wearing clothes, not reading about them."

"I see your point. If I didn't make clothes myself, I'd probably do no more than look at the pictures. Can I say something, Mandy?"

"Of course."

"I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but your husband is quite possibly one of the most gorgeous men I've ever seen in my life. Just…wow."

Rogue felt a tight twinge in her chest and wasn't sure if it was because of the lying or…something else. Of course she'd noticed Remy was handsome. That was as obvious stampeding herd of cattle on a flat plain. One would have to be _dead_ not to notice that.

But this feeling…was it jealousy? That'd be ridiculous though. It wasn't like they were _really _married. It wasn't like Remy was hers in any way. It wasn't like it should matter that other women noticed his good looks.

So why did it feel like it mattered?

Besides, it was Jubilee. It wasn't as if the woman would try and take her R – that is…take Remy.

"It's so sweet, the way he dotes on you," Jubilee continued, oblivious to Rogue's inner suspicions, "And the way he lit up when he was talking about you at the shop was just so…it's so obvious he adores you. He's all considerate and charming. You're very lucky to have him," the woman sighed dreamily.

The tight feeling morphed to something like relief and somewhat like delight. Just what had Remy said about her that made this supposed adoration so obvious?

And she had to admit; Remy Lebeau was good to her. So he was a thief. Despite or because of it, he was better to her than her so-called family had ever been. Absently, she wondered if she'd been better off raised by the same band as Remy. She didn't really think she'd have any problem with the occupation. Perhaps that made her somehow complicent, condoning such behavior.

Oh, dear. This man put her through all this emotional up-and-down, and she hadn't even _seen_ him for hours. That could be part of the problem right there though.

"Yes," Rogue agreed, "He's very…chivalrous."

"He reminds me a lot of Bobby, my, uh, almost fiancé. I mean, he hasn't proposed yet, but I've been hinting at it. Very subtly though."

Rogue had stopped as soon as the words 'Bobby' and 'fiancé' left the girl's lips. Were they thinking of the same guy here? That rude, obnoxious, smug, little _manager_ at the front desk? For goodness' sake, _why_ and _how_ did that happen?

"…In fact," Rogue came back to herself, barely catching the line of topic, "he works downstairs at the front desk most times. Have you met him?"

"Uh-huh," Rogue grunted and made a show of looking through the dresses.

"Delightful, wasn't he? And cute too."

"How many more dresses are we doing today?" Rogue blurted, desperate to change the subject.

She did _not_ want to talk about that guy. Cute, indeed!

"Hm? Oh, well, this is almost ready to be sent out. By this time, the first one should be done and sent back here. It actually should have arrived already. When it gets here, we'll make sure it's the utter perfection you deserve."

A knock sounded from the door, and Rogue, clad in the robe, went to answer.

"Wait!" Jubilee urged, setting the dress aside and going to the door herself. With a hand pressed to the wood, she called out, "Who is it?"

"Mr. Drake, miss. I have a delivery for you from the shop."

It was an interesting sight to see the seemingly always cheerful and amused Jubilation Lee brighten to the point of near dazzling at the very sound of a voice that caused Rogue's entire mood to sour. Jubilee moved to unlock the door but paused.

"Just a minute!" she sang out.

The words weren't even out of her mouth before she was rushing to the mirror across the room, smoothing back her hair, adjusting her dress, and flying back to the door. With a calming breath and a coy smile, she casually eased the door open.

"Hey there, Mr. Drake."

"Hey yourself, Jubes," he said, smiling back at the petite woman.

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

"Jubes? That's not very professional, Mr. Drake," she lightly admonished.

"Well, I don't have very professional feelings for you either."

As Jubilee actually giggled at that, Rogue rolled her eyes heavenward and retreated farther into the room so she'd hear and see as little as the conversation as she could. Though she'd heard very few, that had to be the _worst _line she'd ever heard. It made very little sense to her how someone like Jubilee, with such fabulous taste in clothes, could go fall for that man.

'_Professional feelings?'_

To each their own.

Maybe though, if Jubilee liked him, _maybe_ he wasn't all bad. Maybe. Still, she couldn't help it. That man simply made her skin crawl.

Rogue had once read a book of Asian cultures. In it had been a section concerning their religion. One point that had intrigued her had been past lives. She didn't believe a word of it, but if such a thing were real, she'd wager that she'd been a very terrible person to have the life she did; Jubilee had been a close friend; and Drake had been a worm of a man of little moral character and loyalty. A silly thought, but one she couldn't rid herself of the concept.

As the two continued their quiet discussion, Rogue settled back to sit on the bed. There was something a little weird about that too. She looked around with a frown and thought,

_Weren't there more pillows than this? _

After a few more minutes, Rogue had completely gone through her thoughts on reincarnation once she determined exactly which creature Raven would be in a next life: a cow. But not in India. Somewhere out West, preferably.

Thoroughly amused with her thought, she glanced up from picking at a loose thread on one of the remaining pillows. Rogue flinched and turned away very quickly. She'd looked up to see Drake and Jubilee, erm…being intimate with their mouths.

Rogue internally groaned and slapped a hand over her eyes. She usually ignored her feelings of resentment as they did her little good, but…

Stupid touching people.

After a few moments of good-bye, Jubilee closed the door and leaned against it, holding the package to her chest and a starry look in her eyes.

"Jubilee," Rogue said dubiously.

"Hm?" she giggled.

"You still with me here?"

With one last, dreamy sigh, she shook herself out of her thoughts. She caught Rogue's look, which gave the idea she thought the display overly melodramatic.

"Don't you give me that look, Mrs. Lenoir," she chastised, still grinning. "You should know how it is."

Rogue watched silently as Jubilee walked to the low table to carefully unwrap the dress.

"Yes, I should," she whispered to herself.

It took little time for Jubilee to make a few superficial observations of the dress before shoving it and Rogue behind the screen.

"We're coming to the really fun part now! Jaws will hit the floor, I promise you."

Rogue merely shook her head at the woman's hyper-activity. She quickly disrobed, put on the appropriate undergarments, and stepped into the dress. The silky material felt cool and slipped up easily. Once she had the dress in place, she took a moment to run her hands over it.

Suddenly, she paused and very nearly laughed aloud at her new preposterous situation. Yesterday, she was riding through a rainstorm away from a group of men who'd seized her and her thieving companion. The day before that, she was being saved by said thief. Two days ago, she'd been informed that she was as good as sold and briefly contemplating murder by tea pot. Today, she was in a hotel room she'd shared with the thief, trying on beautiful gowns, and on her way to New Orleans.

She'd realized this before of course, yet every time, the absurdity always struck. Shaking off that train of thought, Rogue strode back around the partition to allow Jubilee to do up the back of the dress. Just as before, Jubilee quickly adjusted the stays and buttoned her up.

"Turn," the shorter girl commanded.

Rogue obeyed, turning an about face.

Once again, Jubilee performed a very serious study of the dress. With one hand on hip and the other cupping her chin, she circled Rogue. Stopping directly in front of her, Jubilee looked her dead in the eye then smiled broadly.

"I am _good_!" she clapped her hands together, eyes shining as they took in her masterpiece, "The dress looks perfect."

Rogue breathed a sigh of relief. She'd enjoyed the experience, certainly, but she was glad it was finally over.

"Now," Jubilee seized her by the shoulders and directed her to sit in the chair in front of the vanity, "if you'll just sit here, I can do something to your hair."

"What? But you don't –"

"Sweetie, no offense, but I _insist_. The curls are pretty, but they need a bit more…design to them. A lot more. Don't worry; it won't take long at all."

"Do I even have a choice?"

"Oh, come on. It's not like I can leave you half done like this. It'll be worth it!"

Rogue looked at the pleading, big brown eyes of the woman that seemed to want nothing more than to take brush to coils into some kind of tempered conformity.

Who was Rogue to deny her?

With a shrug, she said,

"Go for it."

Jubilee chuckled and rubbed her hands together eagerly.

"Yay!"

Rogue watched in the mirror as the woman tore through a satchel and removed brush, pins, and an ornate comb, looking far too delighted.

"Ooh, there's some lip rouge in here too!"

"Wait a minute. I do –"

"You'd only be two-thirds done!" Jubilee cried.

A soul-deep sigh poured from Rogue's lips, and silver eyes rolled heavenward.

"I think you're getting a little carried away here, Jubilee."

"Well, I don't think you're getting carried away at all," she strode back to Rogue's side and placed a hand on the back of the chair and the other on hip, "You are wearing one of the finest dresses in the county. Tonight, you are to dine in splendor with that fine gentleman of yours. While you have a natural beauty to you, I'm trying to help by playing up those assets. The dress alone won't get that wow factor. Don't you want hearts to stop and jaws to drop?"

"That would take more time to accomplish than you have," Rogue said flippantly.

Jubilee's showed her utter disbelief and confusion.

"Just…_who_ has been lying to you?"

Rogue frowned a little. Jubilee didn't know it, but she'd hit a mark with that question. Who, indeed? Raven was in many ways cruel. Telling lies and twisting the truth had been a favored pastime for the woman. While knowing that someone is a liar, it is sometimes hard to discount every falsehood told. After years and years of only lies, one starts to believe there might be some truth to it.

A little girl might look in a mirror and see dull, gray eyes, too pale skin, and ugly white streaks. She sees her sisters in name, bright, radiant Jean and elegant, alluring Emma. Then that little girl grows up, liking herself for the most part most of the time but believing herself to be…lesser.

Jubilee was not by any means stupid. She knew when there was a time to speak and a time to _shut up._ While whether or not to do hair or makeup seemed a more superficial task not requiring such intensity, she recognized there was something much deeper going on.

After a long moment of stillness, Rogue leaned forward to look at herself. Gloved fingers ran over russet curls, and silver eyes watched the way they flew about of their own will.

"We probably should do somethin' with it," Rogue finally said.

"Something simple, perhaps."

Jubilee's tone held not one hint that she'd just witnessed a very personal moment. It did not seem her place to speak of it. Instead, she gathered Rogue's hair back.

"I was thinking of pinning some up and letting the rest trail down your back. Or do you want it all up?"

Rogue bit her lip and her brow pinched in thought.

"I…I want it up."

Jubilee went on to say that it was a good choice. That drawing the hair away from her face would complement her bone structure and dress very well.

With a picture of a blonde-headed, green-eyed woman in mind, Rogue just thought it might make her look a little bit like her mother.

* * *

Remy really liked this hotel. Always, without fail, whenever he came here, he left with more money than when he came. He also really liked poker. A game that allowed him to mess with people's minds, use slight-of-hand, and take their money right from under their noses and they couldn't do a thing to stop him. Honestly, something that fun should be illegal.

But he'd been playing for _hours_ with only the barest breaks, and it was very near suppertime. Besides that, no one really _wanted_ to play with him anymore. Sore losers, the lot of them.

So with coat pockets a quite a bit fuller than when he came, Remy left the game-room to check on the progress of the dresses. He did so hope they were done. He was getting bored, and things would happen if he got bored. Interesting things, yes, but usually illegal or stupid.

Speaking of illegal, Remy found himself twirling a gaudy, silver bracelet around his index finger. Which was odd because he didn't remember winning that. He glanced behind him and walking away from him was a woman dressed in orange and feathers. He spied a similar bracelet around her other fat wrist and frowned.

He couldn't even remember consciously lifting the bracelet from her. Remy didn't know if he should be concerned or impressed.

Shrugging, he continued into the foyer but stopped at the front desk. Mr. Drake was absent at moment, but he snagged a sheet of doodle free paper and pen and wrote out a quick note. He then set the ugly bracelet as well as a few coins and went upstairs. He had no need of knock-offs made from cheap metal, after all.

As he approached their room, something like anxiety mounted in his belly.

And he couldn't think of her like that because…wait. Just…There was a reason, a good one. What was it?

Ah! Mercenaries! The people hiding in dark corners out to kill them or drag them back to their employers so they could do it. Also, that whole 'she might be married' thing. Remy _urgently _needed to talk to her about that. He just hoped that wouldn't somehow bring up his own…arrangement. It probably would.

There was probably something else too.

Her skin? Well…No. Not really. There were ways around such matters as that. And Remy Lebeau could be very creative, especially when he wanted something.

Not now though. Maybe once they made it to New Orleans, when they were safe. Now, he would have to think of her in a platonic way. They were just friends, in the oddest sense of the word. Who just happened to be pretending they were married.

Nothing more than that.

Remy stopped outside of their room door and knocked.

"Yes?" he heard Miss Lee call through the wooden door.

"It's Lenoir."

"Oh! Just a minute."

He heard Miss Lee commanding Rogue to 'Get behind it, quick. Would you just do it!' and the sound of skirts rustling and what sound like something being dragged across the floor. After a beat of silence, the door was thrown open, and he was met with the beaming, slightly breathless Miss Lee.

"Do come in, Mr. Lenoir. Your wife will be ready shortly."

"Are you certain you don't need a few more hours?" he asked, only mildly joking, as his eyes scanned the room for a glimpse of Rogue.

A soft rustling from behind the screened divider and glanced that way. Several articles of clothing, including his short, were tossed along the top.

"Let me assure you," Miss Lee began, closing the door behind him, and he turned his attention back to widely grinning seamstress, "it'll be worth the wait."

She brushed past him and gestured grandly to a seat.

"Just sit – wait," Miss Lee sat in a chair that had been on the other side of the room when he left that was now positioned to face the partition. She took a moment to stare at it, angling her head, then satisfied with what she saw, stood. "Just sit here, if you would."

Remy obliged the strange woman. She approached the divider, disappearing behind it with Rogue. He waited, feeling a bit impatient after hour of already doing the same. The two women whispered too low for him to hear, but he clearly heard the urgency of it.

Yes. Because dresses were very urgent matters.

"And there!" he heard Jubilee say.

Then, very grandly, she swept from around the left of the screen to stand before it.

"Mr. Lenoir, allow me to present your better half."

She gestured with a sweep of her arms. Taking her cue, Rogue came from the opposite side of the screen.

Remy felt his jaw slip open and suddenly half-heartedly regretted this plan to put her in a dress. Because she just killed that whole 'think of her in a platonic' way.

His eyes roved over the dark, violet dress that hugged curves that he'd only glimpsed before. Black satin gloves covered her hands and up her arms. They trailed up and stopped one or two inches of her sleeves, leaving the barest hint of her pale skin exposed. The lights glimmered off her silver chain around her neck, the end disappearing down into her dress. Her hair was pinned up in some way that left curly, white bangs framing her face, with the rest of the white all laced in with her auburn hair.

"Well, Mr. Lenoir, what do you think of your wife?" Jubilee asked, her tone holding to something like smug.

Remy continued to stare for a moment, forgetting his alias, and thought that this Lenoir guy was one lucky son of a gun, and he hated him for some irrational reason. Jubilee merely inclined her head towards Rogue, not even bothering to glance her way, and said,

"I'm not going to say I told you so, but um..."

His gaze finally drifted to Rogue's expressive eyes. He saw a bit of anxiousness and amusement there. All at once, realization came upon him, and he shook himself, closing his mouth with a click of teeth.

"Stunning," he breathed. "You look absolutely perfect."

"Doesn't she though?" Jubilee murmured to herself.

"Thank you," Rogue said smiling, ignoring Jubilee's conceit for the moment.

Remy stood gracefully and approached Rogue. Though she seemed invisible to him anyway, Jubilee backed up a step or two as she watched the man circle Rogue and feeling very much like a proud pageant mother.

While Rogue felt more like prey.

"What, _Lenoir_?" she turned her head to watch him circle behind, "Were you a vulture in another life?"

As he came back round to stand before her, he dared to let his hand trail across her back and rest on her waist. He saw, more than felt, her gasp at the contact. Her hand came up to rest along the wrist of that hand, whether to remove it or keep it there. A long, white strand had wound its way from its place and lay across her forehead. Remy carefully smoothed it back behind her ear and bent to whisper,

"Perhaps I was a wolf."

For a moment, they seemed to forget there was another in the room with them. For a moment, they looked at each other and seemed to forget just who they were. That this was make-believe. Because in most stories, there's some bit of truth to it.

He could see in her eyes that familiar glint of desire and longing. He could feel the underlying thrill of excitement run through her. His eyes trailed from hers to full, pink lips. Lips that were only inches away from his own.

There was a reason he should not kiss her.

Yet as he lowered his head towards her, closing that short distance, for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was.

He didn't really think he cared anyway.

"A-_hem_."

Remy blinked and stopped short of actually touching Rogue to glance confusedly at the ignored Miss Lee, as if he was surprised that she was still there. She stood to the side, looking entirely flushed and a little embarrassed. Seeing her made Remy remember; this was an act. He had no right to kiss her. She wasn't his.

Oh. And that thing about her skin too.

Remy stepped back from Rogue, letting his hand drop from her hair but keeping the other around her waist. He took in the blushing cheeks and wide, grey eyes that wouldn't quite meet his gaze.

_Good job, Lebeau_.

The urge to slap himself was very compelling. He should be able to control himself better than that. No matter how well the femme filled out a dress or looked so pretty with her done up like that. Now he'd made Rogue uncomfortable and himself look stupid. Besides that, he'd completely let his guard down around and his back to a virtual stranger because of a gorgeous face.

His _pere _would have had a heart attack.

Flashing a smile that betrayed none of his uneasiness, Remy said,

"Oh. Are you still here?"

"Yes, well…yes. Um, you two – uh, what I mean is that…" she trailed off with a thoughtful look on her face.

Remy arched a brow and glanced at Rogue who was still not looking at him and biting her lower lip. Which momentarily fascinated him.

…He needed her to _not_ do that.

"Nevermind," he heard Jubilee say and threw his attention back to the seamstress, "It's none of my business anyway. Now don't you two have dinner to go to?"

"Of course. Mandy."

It took a moment, but Remy squeezed her side a little, and she jerked to attention.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded slowly then said,

"Yes, I'm fine. I just realized I haven't really eaten in a while."

"Fiddlesticks," Jubilee snapped her fingers, "I knew I forgot something."

"I'm sorry," Remy apologized, "I should have had something sent up here for you two."

"We wouldn't have had the time to eat it anyway," Rogue shrugged and slipped out of his grasp.

He very nearly felt himself pout.

"That's enough chit-chat, I think," Jubilee declared. "Off you two go," she waved them off.

"But all your equipment…"

Remy gave her a suspicious look. Was she stalling on purpose?

"Please," a dismissive toss of her hand, "I can handle this just fine. It's my job, you know? You two run along and enjoy dinner," she winked and grinned knowingly, "and each other."

Remy gave a wolfish grin of his own even as Rogue's cheeks flared pink once again. He naturally looped Rogue's arm through his.

"We'll be sure to do that, won't we, darling?"

"You're both terrible human beings," she said, while fighting a smile.

Jubilee looked toward the ceiling a moment before nodding.

"What's that say about you, for picking me?" Remy challenged as he led her to the door, opening it and allowing her to pass through first.

"It was a complete matter of convenience," was her retort, and she poked a finger at his chest to emphasize her next words of, "and well you know it."

He took that hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, looking deeply into her eyes. Remy found he couldn't really help himself with her, despite trying.

"Lady Luck must love me then."

And with that, he began to close the door, which resulted in Jubilee leaning to the side so that she could continue to watch the couple. Once the door was shut, she promptly collapsed into a near-by chair and fanned herself with her hand.

"Well," she murmured, laughter filling her voice, "I never!"

* * *

A/N: So…I split the chapter again.

I mean no offense to anyone named Mandy. It's a cute name.

Next time, dinner and a show!

Also, for no other reason than I can, ElvenMuggle was the 100th reviewer! And I'm like, when did this hit 100 reviews? So thanks to her and the rest of y'all! Y'all are the bomb-diggidity!

...there might be a reason why no one says that anymore.


	9. Nine

I have no excuse (actually, I do, but it's like a paragraph and that's not why you clicked on this story). So I'll just say sorry (although technically I didn't do anything wrong other than making you wait an obscene amount of time for an update…wow I'm a terrible person because I honestly don't feel bad. I get it from my mom, I swear) and let you get to the story reading portion now-ish. But you must thank BB (y'all should know that's **blackberryhunttress** by now) who checked up on me to see if I died or something. I really appreciate that. That was really nice.

Thanks to everyone who's been liking and reviewing this story. I hope y'all find it worth the (OBSCENE) wait and enjoy, darling peoples of fanfiction land.

* * *

For all intents and purposes, the couple that walked through the door of the dining room seemed the very picture of blissful marriage. He was dressed finely in a rich suit of black, and hair just almost long enough to be rugged tied back by a thin, leather strap. His menacing, enchanting eyes caught many startled glances, and his handsome features held them, making a glance an admiring stare by more than one pair of feminine eyes. Nevermind they had men of their own. No matter a shiny little ring winked at them from his left hand. For some, this meant nothing.

However, he didn't seem to notice them. Or perhaps he didn't care.

The woman on his arm held herself with a natural grace, and her silver eyes touched over everything with curiosity. Clothed in deep purple satin, her fair skin fairly seemed to glow, and the lights touched her auburn curls in a way that lit a halo about her head. Just as her man, she turned quite a few of the gentlemen's heads. And exactly like her man, she turned a blind eye to the attention their presence attracted.

Along the way, some of the men nodded or lifted a hand in acknowledgment of Remy, most being his fellow card players. Respect was evident in their eyes, and a few murmured praise for the man, having heard the tales he told them. Perhaps one or two prominent names had been dropped into the conversation.

Truly, it was amazing how he obtained gentleman status in a matter of hours. None of them had any idea how it'd taken years for Raven to beat lady behavior into her, and it would seem she still hadn't succeeded, according to her. It was a small fact that Rogue was a little proud of. Call it an act of defiance on her part. And while Remy had received his share of harsh lessons from the matriarch of his family, gentleman was not something he usually endeavored to be.

All the while, as a host showed them to their table, she seemed intent on keeping her sole focus on the man who's arm she occupied. And while he did a remarkable job of appearing not to, Remy did in fact notice.

He noticed the woman and the men. Especially the men. He could _feel_ their curiosity towards Rogue. Their _overly friendly interest._ It grated on him; as if his own emotions weren't enough to deal with already. As they passed, one man leered, and it was all he could do to refrain from smacking his eyes back in his head.

The easy strains of some waltz or another played from the band. Their host departed to fetch the wine Remy had ordered before-hand, and Remy himself pulled out Rogue's chair for her, never noticing the audience they had with every move they made. As she sat down, her man whispered something in her ear, and she smiled up at him, eyes wide and laughing with cheer. Half the men would forever swear they lost their hearts at that moment.

Indeed, the two struck quite a picture.

* * *

Rogue was struck by the freedom she felt at merely being somewhere other than Raven's home. Raven had rarely ever let her go to town with her and her daughters. She used to beg to go, every single time. After a while, Raven no longer grew amused with her pleas and made her…annoyance clear. Rogue never asked again.

Before, she hadn't really had the time to enjoy her independence – such as it was, relying on Remy as she did. But that hardly mattered. It wasn't as if she actually _needed_ Remy. They could part ways at any time, and she'd make it fine on her own.

Nevermind the way he made her feel when he looked at her _that_ way. Forget how she no longer had the ability to breathe or think when he touched her. She could easily walk away from him anytime.

He laid his hand over the one she had resting on the table, and Rogue had to remind herself of…_something_ rather important. It had to do with –

His fingers ran up her forearm back down to her fingers. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"You look lovely."

…nothing that could possibly be _that_ important.

"You've said that already," she whispered and didn't know why.

"No, I said stunning. And that you were perfect."

She shook her head. "I'm not perfect."

"In my eyes, you are."

Rogue dropped her gaze from those intense eyes and reminded herself she could leave anytime she wanted. What _did_ she want?

"Rogue, I –"

The host had sent a waiter to fulfill his role of filling their glasses and taking their orders at just that moment, and Remy paused. He noticed the man lingered far longer than necessary and looked at her far too often. His obvious interest would result in what promised to be the most excellent service Remy would probably ever receive though. Still, he didn't like it, nor did he appreciate the waiter's appreciation.

Rogue allowed Remy to order for her, and he did so in that remarkably Northern accent. She wondered just how many times he'd been up there to get such a flawless accent and asked him as soon as the waiter departed.

"Well, I haven't gone too often," he said lazily. "It's just that my visits usually last awhile. I got some family up there, and they try to kidnap other members of the family into stayin'."

"So you have a big family?"

"Huge. There's Maman and Pere, of course. Tante Mattie, my brother Henri, his wife Mercy, my fou cousines Emil, Etienne, Theoron. Out of those three clowns, Emil is the craziest. I swear, he doesn't have the sense of a flea."

"Do y'all like each other?"

"Eh, much as we can, all things considered."

"What things?"

He didn't immediately respond to that. Rather, he glanced left with a dark look on his face. She didn't know, but his gaze had settled on the unwelcome sight of some men openly staring at Rogue. The glare was meant to deter them, and Remy was all at once grateful for those eyes of his. Rogue misinterpreted his sudden shift and made to remedy it.

"I'm sorry. That's none of my business."

"No, it's not that," he turned back to her, smiling. "It's a little complicated though, and…annoyingly stupid. It'd bore ya, I'm sure. We always talkin' about me. What about you?"

"There's really not very much to me."

"I doubt that. Tell me somethin'."

"Like what?"

"I ask, you'll answer?"

"It…depends what you ask."

"Oh," he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, eyes flashing, "I'll have to think of a good one then. What question will the mysterious Rogue answer?"

"I'm not mysterious," she argued, perfectly earnest.

"You're a woman; you're _born_ mysterious. In fact, first night we met, you said you were going to New Orleans to live with your uncle. You said that he wouldn't sell you. Why would you be concerned with that?"

Rogue released a disgusted sigh and pursed her lips. Remy was worried that perhaps he might have broached a subject he shouldn't have. But he wanted to know. It was one of the many questions he wanted to ask her. Out of all of them, this one had been bothering him the longest.

"I'm sorry," he began. "It's not my –"

"No. It's a…fair question. My father's wife…her name is Raven. She made an arrangement for me."

She trailed off here, knowing what to say yet hesitant to actually voice it.

"As I understood it, I was to be a…_courtesan_," she finished, fairly spitting the word.

She kept her eyes steady on Remy, looking for a reaction. He did not so much as blink or shift his gaze from hers. She noticed the way his jaw clenched and worked back and forth. Then she noticed the tablecloth was glowing.

"Remy!" she gasped.

He looked down at the table curiously, as if just noticing it and surprised that he had anything to do with it. Only sparing it a glance, he looked back up at Rogue and took the charge back in.

"She actually sold you to a man?"

"Yes."

"What is his name?"

"Marko. I…I don't remember his first name."

"I can work with a last name fine, chere."

"What do you mean work?"

"Figure of speaking. Only curious is why I asked."

Yes, he was very curious. Remy was the kind of fellow who liked knowing things for the sheer heck of it. And if it so happened that some idle information he picked up was useful in anyway, all the better. If knowing the man's name somehow presented him with an opportunity to…cross each other's paths one day and something unfortunate happened to this Marko, well, what an uncanny coincidence!

"I have to tell you, chere. I've never hit a woman before, but this Raven…she sounds like a piece of work."

"You have no idea. That's enough though."

At the confused look on his face, she elaborated. "We're not going to talk about anymore unpleasant things tonight. Instead of being in the captivity of characters of questionable repute, being drenched half to death, and runnin' for our lives, we will have a lovely evening and not discuss…such things," she softened her words with a smile and small tilt of her head.

Who was he to argue with her? Still, he feigned a pout, trying to lighten an already intense mood.

"But you promised to tell me a story, chere."

"Did I?"

"Mhmm."

"Do you remember everything all the time?"

"Only important things."

"Ah, well, you'll have to remember to let me know the cost of these dresses."

"Why's that now?" he asked, raising his glass to his mouth.

"I'm going to pay you back for them once we get to New Orleans."

He grunted , swallowing the bit of wine, and lowering his glass back to the table.

"No."

She blinked.

"No what?"

"No, I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

"Do you like your dress?"

"Of course, but –"

"Then I'm not letting you pay for them."

She gave him an odd look.

"So if I hadn't liked it, I'd have to pay for it."

"Um, no, I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who appreciates the expense."

If she caught on to that statement, she didn't reveal it.

"Remy, I can't just let you spend all of this money on me."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't seem right."

"Why?"

"Because you've already done so much for me. It doesn't seem fair."

"Why?"

Rogue opened her mouth to reply then snapped it shut. She glared a moment before sighing.

"I think I might hit you," she confessed.

"I think you might too." He grinned. "How about this then? Since you have this misguided notion that you owe me –"

"How is it misguided?"

"I'll exploit that and demand you dance with me."

"Oh," she frowned and mumbled something.

"Didn't quite catch that, Rogue."

"…said I can't dance."

"Sure ya can," he drawled, a lazy smirk playing along his lips. "'S easy."

He reached for her hand over the table, leaving her with the option of declining gracefully. Or not. After staring for five seconds, Rogue hesitantly gave him her hand. Remy smiled even wider and quickly gave her silk-covered hand a quick kiss, there and gone, before standing to lead her to the dance floor.

The strains of a gentle waltz was just about to begin. Remy led her through the crowd, and Rogue dragged her nervousness with her. He stopped midway and turned to her.

"Relax, chere," he said as he slid his right hand around her waist. "First rule for the waltz."

Actually, he didn't know if that was an actual rule, but his Rogue was far too tense. His left hand had her right held loosely to the side and upright, palms facing each other.

"There are rules?"

"Bien sur, and the next one is for your hand to rest on my shoulder."

She arched a slim brow in disbelief.

"I'm serious! Look," he nodded his head to other couples.

The woman did in fact rest a hand on their partners' shoulders, and Rogue did as she was told. Remy kept a respectable distance between them with some little, internal debate on his part. It would be a simple matter to close the distance between them. Indeed, he had no idea why he didn't just do it.

He didn't know why about a lot of things he did because of Rogue. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had made him second guess himself in any situation. It was an entirely odd situation though. Never had he ever come to the aid of a damsel in distress the way he had for Rogue. Perhaps that had something to do with it.

Maybe that was why he was drawn to her in the way he was. He'd admit, now to himself, that there was something to the attraction he felt that went deeper than her looks. As of yet, just how much deeper it went was something he wasn't quite ready to delve into.

The music was already playing a slow tune. At first, the movements were awkward, and Rogue felt impossibly clumsy. They fell into step flawlessly as she allowed him to lead her. She really had no other choice, feeling certain if she tried a move without his lead, she'd fall over.

"You can breathe, too, you know."

Smiling despite herself, she warned him. "Don't push it."

* * *

In the lobby, Bobby glanced up from his doodling to see the strangest sight he'd seen since yesterday when Mr. 'Lenoir and wife' showed up. A tall man in a black leather coat walked through the front door, singing a tune about 'poke her in the face' and 'hold ups in Texas, please' under his breath.

Bobby suddenly had a very strange feeling. Something told him he wouldn't be making it to Jubilee's house that night.

* * *

Rogue gasped, startled by the sudden spin Remy moved her through. In a moment, it was over, and she was back in his arms.

"You could warn me before you do stuff like that!"

His smile was charming, and his look feigned innocence.

"I'm sorry. Rogue?"

"What?"

"Don't scream."

"Why?"

Then she gasped as her world dipped upside down. Remy draped her over his arm a moment before he brought her back up. Unsteady a moment, she stumbled into Remy's chest. Glaring up, she pointed a finger into the grinning Cajun's face.

"Okay, don't do that _ever_."

"You are so funny."

"I am _so _serious."

* * *

The entirely odd man stood in front of his desk. Handles for something he dared not speculate on poked out of the collar of the coat. He was wearing a full body red and black suit, including mask. Even though Bobby was clearly looking at him and he believed the masked man was staring straight at him, he bopped the hotel bell three times.

Without removing his gaze from the possibly unstable man with something he didn't want to see strapped to his back, Bobby reached for the bell and put it on his side of the desk.

"Good evening, sir."

"'Sup, homie."

Bobby didn't even blink at the odd – and most decidedly not time period appropriate – greeting.

"Oh, please," the man interrupted before Bobby could speak, "you have no idea what period this is anyway. Who knows what you'll put in this thing next! And you're totally killin' the whole tone of this story with this fourth wall breaking too, y'know?"

Oh, sweet mercy, this guy was completely out of his head. He hated dealing with these kinds of people. They usually came looking for someone. Like last month, some random guy with a metal bucket on his head came in looking for a paraplegic named Charles because he was late for their chess game.

Sometimes, Bobby hated his job.

* * *

Remy twirled her, dropped her into a dip, brought her up, and repeated the actions twice. Rogue had no choice but to go with it or to plummet onto the floor.

"I think I hate you right now."

"You all right?" he asked in concern, but laughter hid in his voice.

"I'm dizzy now, thanks to you."

"But you're havin' fun."

She didn't immediately answer and laid her head against his chest. To help with her dizziness, of course. He moved his hand from her waist, further around to her back, holding her closer. Because of the dizziness, naturally.

"A little."

* * *

"Hey, guy, listen up," the masked man addressed Bobby – "Obviously." – drawing him away from his inner musings of doom. "I'm looking for some people."

"Of course you are, sir," Bobby assured him in his most appeasing, submissive tone.

"Tall guy, just over six feet, red and black eyes, Cajun accent, name of Lebeau. He here?"

"…There's a man who looks like that, but his accent is Northern and his name's Lenoir."

"Ah. Good. You're working with me. That's great because I'd hate to have to mess you up. Actually, I wouldn't mind, but that's time I ain't got. Now the girl rocks white streaks in her hair, grey eyes, boy clothes, attitude."

Bobby hesitated. Giving up a guy was one thing. Generally, they should be able to take care of themselves. But the girl…yes, she'd been rude, but she was just a girl. It nagged at his sense of chivalry.

The man clicked his tongue against his teeth.

"And you were doing so well. Let's try this, hm?"

Before he could react, the masked man had yanked Bobby over the counter by his collar, pulled a gun from his coat, and rested it on his cheek.

Chivalry was dead anyway.

"Hm? What's that?"

Bobby's mouth worked open and close, a strangled, squeaking noise coming from his throat.

"Aw, ya lost your voice. Let's get a bit more visual then."

Bobby was pulled all the way over the counter, and his legs nearly gave out. The man looped an arm around his throat to support him, and the other hand still held the gun.

"All right, Noodle Man, point the way."

* * *

"Remy?"

"Hm?"

"This is a different song."

"So it is."

"You said a dance."

"You want to stop?"

"I didn't say that."

Indeed she didn't. If she were a bit more honest, she'd tell him that she absolutely loved this, being in his arms like this. If she were a little braver, she'd move to close that little distance between them. While she was thinking in 'ifs', she wondered how this situation would go – _if _ she were someone else, _if _ she could control her powers, _if _someone like Remy had come into her life sooner.

If Raven wasn't the witch that she was, she'd never have met Remy.

"What's funny?" Remy asked.

She looked at him, surprised. She hadn't realized she'd laughed out loud. Still smiling, she said,

"I think I might actually be grateful to Raven for something."

"What on earth for?"

The explosion seemed to blow the thought from her mind. It sounded like thunder in three consecutive blasts, the last shattering the crystal chandelier above them. Rogue jumped but just barely refrained from screaming like the rest of the women. Tables crashed to the floor as people surged out of their seats and away from the gunman. Before she could turn around to look, Remy pulled her through the throng of terrified dancers, away from where the shots came from.

At the main entrance stood a man dressed in a full red and black body suit. He held a smoking pistol in one hand and had a chokehold around the front clerk's neck.

"Hellooo, ladies and jerks! Drake here tells me that the people I'm looking for are in here. So if you're not them, you can leave with your head attached to your shoulders and all of your body parts, capiche? Jerks who don't have red and black eyes and ladies absent of white hair are free to go, two by two. Oh, you too," he said absently, shoving Bobby away from him, back into the hall.

The couples scattered to obey the gunman's order. He held the gun pointed toward the ceiling as his gaze followed the trickle of people going out the door. A few older women stood in place with wide, fearful eyes. He stared at them. They stared back.

"I'm sorry, can I help you?" he asked. "What, are you tired of living or something?"

"Y-you said, women with white hair were t-t-"

"Oh, for the love of mac and cheese! Out, Grandma! All women who were alive _in Noah's day_, out!"

The women scurried to obey, filing past him. The gunman muttered about the idiocy that guns brought out in some people as he holstered the weapon to his side.

"I swear, it's like all common sense just jumps out window and stupid takes up residence. Honestly, Lebeau, you think I'm not gonna notice you and the girl ducking behind that table. Let me tell you, brother; it's not near thick enough to stop a bullet comin' out of this Peacemaker."

From behind the indicated, overturned table, Remy cursed.

"Know why it's called a Peacemaker?"

"I assume," Remy sighed. "it's got to do with the bullets, hein?"

"You're not completely stupid."

Ignoring that comment and trying to work towards plan, he called out,

"And who does Remy have the pleasure of matching wits against?"

"Third person. Cute. Remy would be matching Wade Wilson. Actually, while working, that'd be Deadpool. But really, both guys are pretty screwy in the head so it doesn't matter."

Remy cursed again. Rogue squeezed his hand, and he glanced at her. She looked completely pale, all color having drained from her face. He felt her fear, worry, and panic and forced them aside. He needed to focus on getting them out of here. He'd heard of Deadpool; none of it was promising for them. He was a mercenary, completely insane and completely lethal. He was one of those people who enjoyed what he did; and he was very good at what he did.

"What do you want?" Remy called out.

"Like you don't know," Deadpool scoffed. "But fine, I'll humor you and the little woman. I want the big, fat bounty out on your heads. Incidentally, the girl's got a bigger price than you do. Ain't it just like a woman, with all of their expenses."

"Marko?"

"Yup! Seems the guy's not too happy about you stealing his woman."

"I don't belong to anybody!"

"She doesn't belong to him!"

Remy and Rogue both shouted at him. Deadpool shrugged and picked up a glass of champagne.

"Says you but, he's gotta contract that says contra-wise, doll and dog face. Personally, I think the whole slave thing is overrated. Kidnapping and enforcing good ol' fashioned Stockholm Syndrome works better for me. So, we doin' this the easy way," he lifted his mask just above his mouth, downed the glass, and tossed it over his shoulder, "or the fun way?" the other hand went to a sword sheathed to his back.

With a hand pressed to her hip, Remy steadily eased Rogue further behind him. He'd been running scenarios in his mind a way to get away from this guy with the highest survival rate and least amount of damage to them. Deadpool was covering the main exit, and the kitchen door was just across from the entrance. Those routes were not good options. Whatever he decided to do, they'd need a distraction. Remy angled his head to the side and whispered, barely moving his lips,

"Get ready to run. Wait 'til I say."

He felt the hand gripping the back of his jacket fall away and heard a soft rustle of skirts, only hoping she was indeed getting ready.

"Come on, man. She's cute and all, but I have every intention of killin' you. Is she worth dying for?"

Deadpool stepped forward, headed directly for their hiding spot.

"Because make no mistake, my friend, I _will_ kill you."

Rogue's breathing sounded harsh to his ears, and his blood pounded steadily. He listened to the bounty hunter come closer as his boots tapped out a jaunty rhythm. Remy tensed and fingered the few cards he had. He charged them precisely with a strength that made the energy arc around them.

Just as he made to stand from his crouch, several things happened at once. There was a crash and yell from the kitchen. The door flew open a moment later, and a white, screeching thing flew through. A chef raced through after it with a meat cleaver in hand, screaming in a mix of English and German. The thing, which happened to be the precursor to someone's chicken cordon bleu, flew straight toward Deadpool who was leveling his gun at the more obvious threat of a man with a knife. He fired, the bullet split the handle, and the chicken flew into Deadpool's face.

Remy had watched all of this unfold and reacted by throwing three cards toward Deadpool. The first hit, knocking him off of his feet, and the other two served to buy time, at least. With the mercenary down, Remy ran his hands along the wall behind him, charging it. He ducked down over Rogue as the wall exploded out.

They ran through the broken wall, and Rogue stumbled as the hem of her dress caught on a piece of debris. Remy reached back for a handful of skirt and pulled it away with a rip, leaving the edge jagged, and barely breaking stride.

"Go!"

She didn't even know why he thought she needed to be told. They ran through the yard toward the street, and she turned to go to the stables.

"No time, Rogue. Just run!"

And run, they did. Adrenaline and fear for their lives drove them to put an incredible distance between them and their assailant. It pushed them to go deep into the woods, forgoing any sort of trail. They didn't give a thought to the fact they were running full speed into territory neither knew. In point of fact, they did not think at all. They ran.

It was well that they did. It was really the only sensible thing for them to do. For back in town, the mercenary had already come to and observed the ruin they'd left. Upon waking, he'd shot the chicken and cursed the damage done to his clothing.

"Melted a hole straight through," he muttered. "Does that jerk realize how much a suit like this costs? And you!" he turned an accusing glare toward the chef lying on the floor.

"If anyone asks, you tell them I got attacked by ninjas. If anything even remotely rhyming with chicken comes out of your mouth, I'll know and kick your butt so hard your entire extended family will stop in mid-sentence and wonder about a vague puckering sensation they have in their collective dupas."

The man stared, too in shock and scared to move.

"You have a nice day now."

Deadpool tipped an imaginary hat and whistled a tune as he casually walked through the wrecked dining room. He sauntered back to the deserted lobby and hopped over it. Looking through the hotel registry, he found their room number and arched a brow under his mask.

They'd shared a room? Now weren't these two the little scandal? Taking a spare key from the hook, Deadpool headed for the stairs. These two were bound to have something interesting.

* * *

They stopped running a ways back. In the midst of the woods, they'd stumbled on an area mostly without a trees. The clearing only had wild grass that swayed in the wind and brushed against thighs. For a time, it was all they could to do merely catch their breath. As winded as they were, Remy and Rogue only rested a few minutes before they moved on.

As they had been running through the thick underbrush, naturally, there'd been no talk between them but as they went further into the clearing where the traveling was made easier, Rogue suddenly blurted,

"This is all your fault."

In the relative quiet of the forest, her words easily carried back to him. He stopped as suddenly as if she'd slapped him. Certainly he'd not heard her right.

"Excuse you?" he asked in a purposely bland tone.

Rogue spun to face him, a length of her skirt clenched in one hand.

"What?"

"You cannot seriously be blamin' me for this," he defended.

"Yeah, I can 'cause I am!"

"Are you kiddin'? I saved your life!" he states in an incredulous voice.

She was actually standing there, _accusing him_! Like it was his fault. If not for him, she wouldn't even be here!

"Same to you, _Lenoir_. We should have kept goin' instead of wasting time there, play-acting. Which was your decision. Let's get dresses, chere; let's get dinner and go dancin'! Stupid!"

In all honesty, the decision to stay around as long as they had been a foolish one. He'd allowed himself to relax, thinking danger far behind them. He knew he messed up. He didn't need her to point out what he was already thinking.

Despite the truth, he opened his mouth to spit out a biting retort until he notices: she wasn't really talking to him. Her breath was still coming heavy from the running, and her eyes kept darting behind them, barely focusing on him.

"I shouldn't even be lettin' you make these decisions for me," she muttered to herself, "I shouldn't even be with you because you're…"

Her movements are shaky, and he can see her hand trembling as she tucked hair loosed from pins behind her ear. Remy imagines that the knuckles of the hand holding her skirt must be clenched white.

"Rogue," his voice was soft and very concerned.

The girl looked very much like she was going to cry, and he was _so_ relieved he hadn't yelled at her. That relief was short-lived.

Remy approached her slowly, like easing toward a spooked animal. She looked so _scared_ and a bit hysterical and he didn't need a bit of his empathy to feel her ache. His hand gently touched her arm, and she barely even flinched; only bowed her head to try to hide tears.

When she didn't move away, he could feel her shaking under his touch. Easily, naturally, he drew her into his arms, holding her close. Her arms wrapped tight around his waist, and she pressed her face into his chest and whimpered. It amazed him that such a little sound could make his stomach drop, his heart twinge, and shoot panic through him all in a moment.

"It's okay, chere. Ah, don' cry, please. I got you; 's okay," he whispered into her hair, hoping to soothe her.

It didn't work.

Remy _hated_ when women cried. In his mind, women were fair, elegant creatures, and crying was something they should never do. It was simply wrong, and anything that caused such distress should be blown to bits. This attitude of his had often caused him to be something of a hero in the eyes of a few women quite a number of times.

He didn't want to be the hero right now. He just wanted her to stop crying because she was _breaking his heart_. He felt like keeping her tucked away somewhere she couldn't get hurt while he went to annihilate everything that ever did her harm.

Remy hated when women cried; his entire being absolutely despised when Rogue cried. He felt absolutely hopeless, not being able to really help her. Using his empathy to try and calm her would be _disastrous_ with how he was feeling himself.

They struck a quaint picture. A man in a fine suit holding his violet-clothed lady in a tender embrace, standing in a thin clearing amidst the forest. It's entirely peculiar and almost dreamlike. But the two will tell, or they would if either had any intention of bringing this episode up ever again, that the event was most real.

She'll cry – outright bawl – in the most inelegant manner for what seems hours in only a matter of minutes. Afterwards, she'll realize that she's quite shamed by her display and reluctantly let him dry her tears with his handkerchief. Later, she'll never want to speak of this, and he'll never push it.

But right now, he'll hold her because she's crying, and someone needs to do it. He doesn't mind that it has to be him.

* * *

A/N: Dance scenes are almost as hard as fight scenes, as I've do neither. Well, I do something, but I don't really think you'd call that dancing. More like a rhythmic, swaying, upright seizure.

I'm abusing Bobby a bit. If this were movie-verse, I promise he'd be dead. Blame BB.

I find that I have the most unusual passive vocabulary and terms of speaking. I don't have any other explanation for it other than a muse which is Kazoo. So I'm thinking he has something like a proper English accent. Think Alfred. But way meaner.

Goodness, what a long chapter (by my standards). Interesting thing with this, wrote the ending, wrote the beginning and trying to work through to the middle where it all connects. Thing is, it just kept getting a bigger, longer beginning without any real progress to the bridge point for like the longest time.

By the way, the chicken – along with a few other aspects – was so **blackberryhunttress. **

What day is this, like 3? I _think_ I _might_ have another chapter up soon – sooner than this one – and I'll try my hand at channeling a certain blond, charming consultant into this. Bet Indy knows who I'm talking about;)


	10. Ten

**Edit**: Yes, you've probably read this already. I've changed the Jane aspect slightly, as I'd been conflicted with how he would be related in any way with the characters Random as a kindly stranger finding them, that's already happened, and I have decided I don't like it.. This is one reason why I love FF; it's not set in stone.

So to those who read this, you can skip to a little after the second **oOo**. To those who haven't read this chapter before, ignore this:)

I'm pleased and a little surprised that Indy caught on to my little trick last chapter. For this chapter, I once again was helped out by BB. However, that part has been vastly re-written.

* * *

It was amazing where guesswork could get a person. Somehow, they'd found their way from their clearing and to a road. Not a main one, if the overhanging branches and weeds growing in the road were any indication, but a lesser used path was probably for the best. Their pursuer would be less likely to take it. That left Remy not really being sure of where they were, but he thought it best to keep that information to himself.

Something told him, perhaps that niggling of empathy he could never quite suppress, that Rogue would be less than pleased to hear that they were lost. Not that they were, really. But if he told her what the situation was, and he wasn't completely sure where they were going right now, she'd warp it in her female mind and think they were lost. That would just panic her, and he was determined to not put her through any more undue stress today.

He felt it was the least he could do for her after the whole day was pretty well ruined for her. It wasn't his fault in the slightest, but the man who had caused the damage wasn't within reach; truthfully, he rather preferred it that way.

After Rogue's small but poignant revelation about the predicament she'd left behind, a whole new wave of protectiveness and possessiveness had washed over him. The thought of another man even _thinking_ he could own Rogue left him feeling sick and somewhat violent. When he'd nearly blown the both of them up, he knew he needed to move. Any sort of movement would have helped get the tension out of him.

He hadn't expected the reaction he'd have with Rogue in his arms. She seemed to fit with him perfectly. Her nervous excitement had been endearing, and the faces she'd made when he'd dipped her had been priceless. He hadn't even minded the other men staring. Let them look. He was the one who had her, and there had been no plans of sharing.

Then that mercenary and that whole fleeing in terror. And Rogue crying. _That_ had been…something he could live his whole life never seeing again.

Personally, he was exhausted from the day's events. It amazed him that Rogue seemed to be having no trouble at all. But she wouldn't complain about something like that. That was just Rogue. His girl was tough like that.

Still, he wouldn't have minded a little conversation. However, Remy knew women well enough to know when _not_ to talk to them. And right now, Rogue seemed just a little upset. It'd be best to keep his mouth shut…and not tell her he didn't know exactly where they were.

**oOo**

Rogue wasn't happy. That was the understatement of the century. But who wouldn't be after being forced to run and hide from an insane mercenary into some cold, wet forest with only a thieving, Swamp Rat as company. On top of that, her dress was ruined as was her hair. She'd really liked it, and after having to go through hours and preparation for it, it was torn and filthy.

Right now, she was irritated with everything, mostly though with that man. She could just barely stand her traveling companion. And by barely, she meant she was _this _close to absorbing him and leaving his sorry, unconscious butt stranded here for few hours while she got a head start. Safe to say, all her warm and fuzzy thoughts about him from this morning were long, _long _forgotten. They were something present at the back of her mind, and she was content to leave them there.

Truly, her fury towards him was not completely warranted. She was angry at Raven, Marko, the mercenaries, her father, Emma, Jean, and Remy…herself. Remy was just the obvious choice. Maybe she was being unfair, but nothing had been all that fair to her lately. She had to play nice when no one else was? Please spare her the tripe.

One thing she could lay at Remy's fault: he'd made her cry. Well, not _directly _him, but he was part of the situation. Rogue couldn't remember the last time she'd cried –_ her father's death, the first time Raven hurt her, and the time after that and after that_. There was a time when she used to cry and whine a lot but couldn't remember when it stopped. Perhaps after she realized that no one really cared. No one was going to hold her and tell her everything was all right.

But Remy _had. _She'd bawled like a baby, and he'd comforted her, murmuring words into her hair that she couldn't remember. She _thought_ that he may even have planted a kiss up there somewhere. All of that had just made her cry even more. She'd been vulnerable, more so than she'd allowed in years. In that time, a few cracks had been made in her walls; even more than before. And for all of that, he had her irrational anger.

She'd experienced enough emotional outbursts in the past few hours, thank you very much. She had not the slightest intention on doing anything but let it smolder. It would stay that way, too, until it faded, or she released it on the next unlucky dupe fool enough to attract her ire.

He clearly noticed her displeasure with him and everything but wisely did not comment. Perhaps he figured out that a part of her anger came from the embarrassment that not only had she'd cried, not only in front of him, but _on _him. And he'd stood there and let her.

And maybe later, she would be touched with how sweet of him that was, and that he wasn't making a big fuss out of it, that he was giving her as much space as he could. Maybe later, she'd realize there had been a definite shift in their unsteady relationship to something else entirely.

Maybe she already knew and just didn't want to acknowledge the change.

Right now though, she'd focus on being angry and recovering _some _dignity. It helped keep her moving anyway. Away from back there and their new friend with samurai swords and guns. If he did manage to catch them, she had little doubt they'd actually be able to get away again, at least not very far. They'd gotten lucky with…whatever that thing was. She'd been a little busy fearing that Remy was about to be killed in front of her to really notice. If he found them again, Wilson probably end up killing them because Rogue sure wasn't going back easy. She halfway hoped he _did _kill her, if it kept her from going back.

But she was interrupted from such _lovely _thoughts at the very faint but still distinguishable sound of wheels crunching the dry dirt path underfoot. And the fact that Remy suddenly grabbed her arm and dragged her to the side of the road out of sight wasn't helping her concentration.

"What do you think you're doing?" She hissed at him, silver eyes flashing.

He lifted a finger to his lips in a shushing motion and to her great surprise, crouched down and grasped the hem of her dress. Before she knew what he was doing, Remy proceeded to rip a jagged line up the already damaged silken material. As she watched the tear grow further up to her hip, her eyes became increasingly wider while her voice shot up a few octaves.

"Remy!"

"Hush, Chere," He suddenly stopped in his motions and looked back up at her, his work done. "We need a ride."

"And just how are we supposed to do- oh, no!" Her eyes now warred between unmistakable rage and horror. "Uh-uh. No, wrong! I am not going out there like this, Remy LeBeau!"

"Desole, Chere, but we might miss our only opportunity to get away from that maniac back there," he shot her that self-satisfied, lazy smirk of his as he stood and her heart most certainly did not flutter, "And I need a distraction."

His reasoning was questionable, and his methods were excessive, to say the least. The mischief in his eyes didn't help his case either. Madman on their trail or no, that didn't stop her eyes from narrowing, and her retort that rested on just the edge of her lips. Until he suddenly seized her shoulders, spun her around, and with a whispered 'Bonne chance, chere', shoved her out there just as a carriage came around the bend in the road.

"Remy!" She hissed back trying to look over her shoulder while still keeping the approaching carriage and cloaked driver coming towards her in sight. Too late though. He was gone, and instead all she caught was a glimmer of a shadow that darted up a tree overhanging the road. She looked up finally to find his glowing orbs for eyes watching her with avid amusement as she glared back at him. His only reply was to wink and mouth out, "Have fun."

Oh, she was going to have fun alright. She was going to have a ton of fun plotting his murder and where she was going to hide the body. That would have to wait though.

**oOo**

As the black horse-drawn carriage came steadily closer, she had even less of a clue of what exactly she was supposed to do. Stick her leg out? Faint? Scream? Actually, she felt like throwing a full blown tantrum, but still had too much dignity to give in to such childish actions.

And okay, yes, she'd handled Taylor before, but all she'd had to do was get close enough to touch him. It'd also been life or death, specifically at that moment. Her mind simply didn't register it priority so did nothing as far as planning. Not that she'd planned then; that had been completely spur of the moment. Something she needed to do _now._

The figure on the carriage had the hood of the cloak fully drawn up, covering any features. It stopped well shy of Remy's tree. With little hope of this half-baked plan working, Rogue called out to the hooded figure. Yet, she was cut off before she could even open her mouth.

"You might as well call your friend down before he breaks his fool neck."

Rogue startled at hearing a feminine voice from the perch on the carriage and heard Remy curse under his breath. A moment later, he emerged from the shadowed forest with an almost apologetic smile and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Sorry 'bout that."

Rogue merely groaned and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. She could _feel_ the headache coming on.

The woman dropped back the hood of her dark cloak. Charcoal black hair spilled down past her shoulders. She spread the cloak away on one side, and a glint of silver flashed from the folds of a ruby cotton dress, her fingers, her earlobes, and around her throat. The first was undoubtedly weaponry, the rest jewelry. Her lips are painted red, and her eyes are lined in black. She glared at them impassively, taking in the filthy black suit and ripped formal dress.

She tilted her head to the side as a door on the carriage opened.

"I insist you get back inside," the scarlet-robed woman said.

"Are there guns?" a man called from the vehicle.

Remy blinked, surprised that he recognized the voice then he grinned.

"Still afraid of guns, are you?" Remy called out.

The man stepped fully out and down, and bright, dark eyes assessed them. Average height, middle aged, and blond curls, as soon as he spotted Remy, a delighted grin lit up his face.

"Well, as I live and breathe…"

He purposefully shut the door and walked toward them. His fine suit of gray bespoke of a gentleman's status, and he didn't seem the least bit a threat. Even so, Rogue found herself taking a marginal step back.

Remy met him halfway. They grasped forearms and hugged briefly.

"Remy Lebeau! Of all the people to meet wandering around the woods, I would meet you."

"Yeah, wonderful how that works. It's been what? Six years?"

The blond man gave a low whistle.

"Time flies."

They kept talking, babbling on about things Rogue couldn't keep up with. Wasn't she supposed to be bait or something a minute ago? Now Remy was standing there, chatting away like she had the patience for it. As Rogue stood behind them with a not so pleasant draft running up her skirt, her gaze went to the other woman who wore the expression of a woman who has endured much and was very close to going over the brink and hurting someone. Despite the distance that already separated them, Rogue held the ripped skirt together as well as she could and took another step back and a little more behind Remy.

All of this movement drew their attention to the irritated woman with a ripped gown and a dark glare. It was almost comical how quickly the smile on Remy's face went from pleasantly surprised to nervously placating.

"Chere," he laughed a little anxiously, "may I introduce my old _ami _Patrick Jane, formerly of California. Patrick, I present _Mademoiselle_ Rogue."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Rogue," he bowed his head congenially, eyes flashing with amusement.

Not really wanting to, but also unable to go against her upbringing, she returned the gesture and said,

"Likewise, Mr. Jane, though the 'Miss' is an unnecessary title, all things considered," she waved a hand through the air, indicating the entire setting.

"In that case, it's Patrick to you, and that" he waved to the woman, "is Wanda Maximoff. You may call her Wanda or Maxi."

"No, she may not," Wanda objected and looked at Remy and Rogue carefully. "Would either of you know anything about the married couple that blew a hole in the Mahoney Place?"

Remy arched a brow and sent a glance Rogue's way then shrugged.

"Well, I'm pretty sure they ain't married."

Patrick Jane grinned in a perfectly amused way at that answer. Rogue found him somewhat odd for a reason she couldn't name. Something seemed unusual but her own experience with people outside of her 'family' was limited to going into town for foodstuffs and the occasional house guest. And of course Isaac.

She didn't think this man had anything in common with Isaac though.

"Girlfriend?" Jane asked, not so much helpfully.

"Oh, no!" Rogue objected a little too quickly.

Remy looked at her, actually affronted.

"'Oh, no?' Why ya gotta say it like that?"

"Like what? I was just sayin' no; he got it wrong."

"But you said it like it would be a bad thing to be my girlfriend!"

Rogue pursed her lips, crossed her arms, and looked him up and down. Remy felt his eyes go wide.

"Um, hello?"

The two turned to the nearly forgotten Mr. Jane. He pointed to them.

"Relationship troubles?"

"Oh, no," Remy mocked. "No, we're not _in _a relationship, right, Roguey?"

"Well, we're not," she insisted hotly, "We're just two people who met in a coincidental circumstance with events following that keep us together. That's not really a relationship, is it?"

Remy made an effort to keep his tone casual, but a little hope tinged his voice.

"Well, it could."

Rogue looked at him again with an infuriatingly neutral look.

"Excuse me, as much as I hate to interrupt this lover's spat," Jane said, drawing their attention and Rogue's ire.

"We are _not _lovers!"

"Stop saying it like it's a terrible thing!"

Rogue opened her mouth to respond to that, but nothing came out.

"Pardon, slip of the tongue," Jane apologized half-heartedly.

"_Menteur_!"

Patrick looked like he was just holding back laughter, quickly pursing his lips and clearing his throat.

"_Anyway_, I was wondering if we could continue this discussion in the carriage. Wanda worked out a schedule, and she really doesn't like deviations."

"You're offering us a ride?" Rogue asked, not sure if she really wanted to accept.

On one hand, it was better than walking. On the other, she wasn't sure if she trusted this Mr. Jane. Unlike Remy, she felt no inclination to keep close to this man. Somewhere in the center of that was the fact that she trusted Remy.

"Of course," Patrick replied. "As if I'd leave Remy and his friend who happens to be a girl in the middle of the road. I'd never be able to face _Tante _again for leaving her _petite, garcon bebe._"

"Shut up. Gimme _un minute_."

Remy stepped back, beckoning Rogue to follow with a flick of his wrist. She followed him some little distance away. Obvious to him and probably his perceptive friend, she was still a little upset about…_before_. He really had no desire to have her yelling and crying again so he decided to take heed to some of what she'd said.

"What do you think?"

"Oh. You're askin' my opinion now?"

Contrary woman…That's only what she'd been raving about earlier.

"Rogue."

He said it in patient yet tired tone. It instantly made her feel guilty. Remy was on her side, and she shouldn't give him a hard time. She didn't really like the idea of it anyway.

Although he _had _ripped her dress for what was now apparently no reason. But he was the one who bought it in the first place, so she supposed she had no call to upset and decided to just let it go.

…But _she _was the one who had to wear it.

So she swept one of her many loose curls behind her ear and mumbled, "Sorry."

"Rough day?"

It was a _poor_ joke, but it managed to get a small smile from her nonetheless.

"Something like. You _did_ say we need a ride," Rogue murmured, "and I'm also not looking forward to traipsing through the woods, flashing the wild life every step." She fingered the rip Remy had made earlier.

With his gaze set on the pale bit of skin showing between the folds, Remy bowed his head and said, "Je suis desole, ma cherie," he dragged his gaze up from her leg slowly up to her eyes, "Forgive me?"

It never failed to fascinate him the way her cheeks colored when she blushed.

"Yes. Of course."

He smiled and took her hand.

"_Bon_. Your carriage awaits, my lady."

Remy glanced away from Rogue back to the carriage. It seemed the two were having a whisper-shouted argument. Jane was very calm yet insistent, counting off a series of facts on his hand. Maximoff looked very much like she wanted to leap off of her seat and strangle her employer. She spoke to him, and though specific words were lost to them, they clear heard her frustration. Jane just smiled pleasantly when she was done, and Maximoff scowled her distaste.

Remy offered his hand, and Rogue took it without hesitation, pleasing him somewhat. He led her back to Patrick who had climbed up to the seat next to Wanda, and seemed to be trying to tease a smile out of her. It looked as if he was succeeding more in getting popped upside his head, but he managed to duck in time.

"Patrick! Stop aggravatin' the woman, and let's go."

Patrick slipped down and away from Wanda's second hit, mischief lighting up his eyes. Wanda snapped her fingers, and a blue spark streaked from her hand to the back of Patrick's head. Laughing like an unrepentant school boy, he all but ran to get inside the carriage, diving in front of Remy as he was handing Rogue in.

Remy shook his head, "And I'd so hoped Teresa woulda calmed you down."

Patrick poked his head out the door, "Funny you should say that. I'm actually on my way to see her at her brother's house."

"Her brother hates you."

"Which is _why _she went to her brother."

"Sounds like _you_ are the one with relationship troubles, Patrick," Rogue quipped.

Patrick titled his head and smiled at her, looking at her as if reassessing every conclusion he'd come to about her. He extended his hand, and Rogue looked at it a moment before accepting it, allowing him to pull her inside. She settled across from him, and Remy climbed in after.

"I'm certain you and I will get along very well, Rogue."

As soon as the door closed, Wanda snapped the reigns, and the horses trotted off. She didn't like this and said as much to Patrick. Of course he didn't listen to her. But when things blew up in her face, she was going to say I told you so, and she was going to say it a lot.

**oOo**

After waving goodbye to the bubbly seamstress, Deadpool rifled through the left behinds. All cash was shoved into various pockets, along with a rather fancy knife. There was nothing all that interesting to be found, although there were quite a few pillows lying about.

In fact, they were very fluffy. And this room was paid for and available for a while.

So he could head out now and drag his bounty back kicking and screaming, or he could order room service and have dinner in bed then sleep 'til noon.

Fried chicken sounded _really _right now.

* * *

And that's the revised version. So to excuse these infrequent updates, this was meant to be a side story, believe it or not. I'm still actually planning it, something that seems to impede my progress more than anything. I seem to do better with spur of the moment writing than following a plan. Weird.


End file.
